“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely sure.” Feneya knew she could take the heat at the lower level and she didn’t want to be the reason that Era lost out on her hot-box time. “You sit up top, I’ll feed the monster in the corner.”
Era grinned. “It’s a plan.”
The cold shower afterwards had Feneya tingling from top to bottom, feeling good, relaxed. Like having drunk a fine wine, she thought. It felt good, too, to be dressed in freshly cleaned clothes. Then Era escorted her to the Officers’ Mess.
“You look radiant, Lieutenant Weytok,” a Lieutenant-Commander told her as he indicated her place at the table and sat down beside her. Lieutenant Sharden sat opposite.
“Your Lieutenant Sharden has been showing me the wonders of your hot-box.”
The Lieutenant-Commander eyed her more closely and Weytok knew he was undressing her in his mind. “Now, if I’d known, I’d have taken a little time and joined you Ladies.”
Weytok looked up into Sharden’s eyes and they shared a secret smile. Men. They stood as the Captain entered.
“Well, Lieutenant, have my crew been proper hosts?”
“Very proper, Captain,” Weytok replied, blushing slightly.
“Good. I’d hate to have it said otherwise. And I thought we’d enjoy a dinner with you as this will be your last night on board.”
Weytok looked at him questioningly.
“You have reached your destination, Lieutenant. Adia.”
CHAPTER 10
TLARTOX HOMEWORLD
Before the tele-vid went blank they were in motion. Shads Efdur grabbed the pack with the schematics he’d been working on; Strel had their meager possessions in a pile and he and Ange were stuffing them into two bags. Tep maintained a watch out the front.
“Nothing yet,” he reported.
“Let’s go,” Shads ordered. According to the anonymous tip, they had only minutes, if that. The four hit the back stairs running, leapt the fence, crossed the back garden of the neighbor’s domicile, crossed the alley and disappeared into another back lot, one with five tall trees.
“I’ll check out the front,” Strel volunteered, his dark grey fur and dark clothing making him almost invisible in the night. Tep peered up and down the alley, ready at the first sign of light to close his eyes and drop back below the fence. No sense risking the flash of green a Tlartox’s eyes made when hit by a beam of light.
A roar of landcruisers split the silence, one of which turned down the alley. Tep dropped and made his way quickly to the others. He found that Strel had also returned.
“Back door’s covered.”
“Another’s gone around front, I think.”
“Let’s move.”
That last came from Shads. Likely, all the cruisers had passed. They needed to get out of the area before the hunters ascertained that they were no longer in the house. With nothing left behind, the hunters might believe they had received a false tip. Shads didn’t count on that. Their scent would be too fresh.
His heart beat rapidly as he stepped onto the street and led them quickly—but not at a suspicious run—across the intersection.
Strel slipped ahead and into a garage. A low roar, and their escape vehicle moved out onto the street. Tep closed the garage door behind the cruiser and climbed into the rear seat beside Shads. He did not look pleased.
Shads caught Tep’s glare and understood. Tep Nallin had curled happily ensconced in his safehouse, living there for years before Shads and the others arrived and upset Nallin’s little world. And he blamed Shads.
Someone had compromised Nallin’s safehouse. Now the hunters had sniffed out another. Hunters seemed to appear everywhere. Shads relaxed into the seat as best he could, and closed his eyes. The shadowy war between them and the hunters complicated his mission, and they no longer had the time to keep shifting. He desperately needed a couple of quiet days to work on the schematics, then few more to reconfigure the equipment. His head hurt.
“I’ll call Tlantho,” Strel’s low growl came back to them. “She’ll let us know a good place to hole up.”
“No.” Shads opened his eyes. The other three turned to him in surprise.
“No?”
“No. Head for the Westbridge exit. We’re leaving the city.”
“Through Westbridge?” Ange’s ears cocked forward quizzically. “They do vehicle registration checks there.”
“Through Westbridge,” Shads confirmed, closing his eyes again. A long motionless moment passed, then the cruiser lurched into motion. They needed to take the risk. Shads needed sleep. It was so hard to think.
“We’re there.” Ange sounded frightened. Strel loosened his side arm in its concealed holster.
“What time is it?”
“About two hours past midnight.”
“Good. Head for lane four.”
After a quiet exchange of looks, the landcruiser moved forward again. Shads knew his companions hoped he knew what he was doing. He didn’t blame them. He hoped so, too, for they could no longer turn back.
The landcruiser stopped at the inspection point and Shads exited the car to meet the guard.
“I’ll need your registration,” the guard said in a bored voice as Shads stretched.
“Of course.” Shads handed the guard a folded booklet.
The guard opened it and his eyes went from the booklet back up to Shads. He then peered closely at the others in the car, noting the nervous tic which had Tep sheathing and unsheathing his claws. He made his decision.
“Everything seems in order, sir.” The guard bared his teeth, handing back the booklet while slipping the cash into his pocket with his other hand.
“We were never here,” Shads told him.
“Who was never here?” the guard called over his shoulder as he activated the barrier.
Shads stepped back inside the landcruiser and it moved slowly through the lanes until it reached the highway where it sped up.
“He’ll talk,” Nallin accused Shads.
“Of course he’ll talk,” Shads replied. “Take your next left, Strel.” Shads tried hard to remember the area. It had been a year at least. “Yes, now right.” They turned down an overgrown trail leading to an ancient abandoned mineshaft. Officials had closed it off some thirty years earlier after eight young Tox, who had been exploring it, had died within. After recovering their bodies, officials had collapsed the roof that no one else suffer the same fate. However, one could go a small distance into the hillside—just far enough to hide a landcruiser.
“Now what?” Nallin wanted to know.
“Now we cover the trail and head back into the city on foot.”
Ange purred his approval. “And the hunters will get the guard to talk, and search the countryside.”
“Exactly.”
Shortly after daylight they slipped into a diner to partake of an early breakfast. No one talked. Tired and hungry, the adrenal rush that had kept them going faded.
“By all that’s holy!” Strel choked out, his ears going flat against his head before he corrected himself. The rest followed his gaze through the window to a black furred Tox whose head swiveled back and forth as she crossed the street.
“Miz!” Strel was reaching for his concealed side arm when Shads’ hand caught his wrist.
“Would you ruin everything for vengeance?” Shads whispered fiercely. “Focus on your plates,” he ordered. “Do you want to attract her attention?”
Strel growled, “May her dish be broken,” and returned to his meal while Shads kept a careful watch.
Miz would pass right by the diner or, worse, come in. Then Shads caught the sight of another Tox, this one moving on the opposite side of the street. A hunter group. The other two appeared. His heart pounded.
Miz’s head turned and she looked through the window, catching Shads looking right at her. Their eyes locked for a moment, then Miz moved on. Almost a minute passed before Shads realized he had stopped breathing. He let out the pent up breath. She mu
st have seen them. She had to have. His stomach did a small flip-flop. She let them go. He was right about her.
“Let’s get out of here,” Ange suggested after the hunter group had turned down the next street.
“She saw us,” Shads told them. “She let us go.”
“Didn’t recognize us,” Tep Nallin replied coldly.
Outside he moved over to where Miz had walked by. “See. The reflection makes it difficult to see in. She probably didn’t make out anything other than four shapes.” He looked disgusted.
Shads knew better than to argue. “All right. Let’s get away from here.”
“Want me to contact Tlantho now?”
“We’ve been hunted, hounded from one hideout to another. We have to accept that they have compromised our comm,” Shads growled. “No. We tell no one. I know a place.” He led off, not seeing the shrugs from the others. He wondered how long their luck would last. He hoped Vom’s luck remained good. He hadn’t heard from the Master for some time.
Shads gave instructions, and they split up. Four of them arriving together would attract attention.
Shortly before noon he climbed the rear steps and unlocked the back door. The others would arrive soon. Shads looked around. Nothing had been disturbed. He badly needed sleep, but he couldn’t, not yet.
He sat down in a soft chair and waited for the others. More than anything, he wanted to be finished with this madness. He wanted to go home.
ADIA
The sun felt strange on his face, and the breeze held a multitude of smells that he’d almost forgotten and some he had never before had the pleasure of sampling. Mart Britlot took a deep breath and climbed down the gangway to the solid earth. One by one the rest of the crew trooped out behind him and each in turn stopped, turned a face to the sky, and breathed in deeply.
As they lined up on the pad, a small delegation came out to meet them. Britlot glanced over his crew. Once again they stood in dress uniform. Some had complained; Britlot felt for them not at all. Behind them stood the three Adian Marines and two techs who had accompanied them down. Commander Travlot stood beside the Confederation officers. Feneya caught Britlot’s eye and flicked to the Commander. Britlot followed her gaze. The commander looked grimmer than he had when he’d first boarded Searcher.
“What is it, Commander,” Britlot asked quietly before the delegation came within earshot.
“Fleet Admiral,” came the terse reply.
The air itself seemed to crackle with tension as Britlot felt his crew stiffen. None of them, the Adian commander included, felt comfortable around that lofty rank.
Britlot’s attention went to the Fleet Admiral. The hair not covered by the peaked hat had once been black, now it carried streaks of grey. Her dark eyes were sharp and clear, and there was a no-nonsense feel to her stride. Two other naval officers and a man in civilian attire walked with her. They halted. As one, Commander Travlot and Lieutenant-Commander Britlot saluted. The Fleet Admiral returned the salute sharply. She looked up at him curiously.
“Fleet Admiral Fenton, Lieutenant-Commander Mart Britlot of the Confederation Navy,” Commander Travlot introduced them, then fell silent.
Britlot felt himself the object of intense scrutiny by the Fleet Admiral and stood quietly, waiting for the higher-ranking officer to speak. By the time she finally turned to look at his crew he felt decidedly uncomfortable. After a few moments she returned her attention to him.
“Lieutenant-Commander Britlot. I welcome you and your crew to Adia. This is Commodore Cetph, Captain Kaldon and Foreign Minister Jalketh.”
Britlot greeted each in turn, then introduced his crew. Amenities observed; he prepared himself to deal with this unexpected delegation. The Fleet Admiral began.
“Lieutenant-Commander, please come with me. We have much to speak of.” She turned to her companions. “Captain Kaldon, please see to Lieutenant-Commander Britlot’s crew. Commander Travlot, please accompany Commodore Cetph.” She nodded to Britlot, turned and began to stride back towards the nearest building. Britlot fell in step beside her and contemplated his next move.
* * *
The speed at which events moved stole Lieutenant Weytok’s breath. After dinner with the Captain of Winter Sky, the Adians had ferried her and the rest of her crew back to Searcher. The Adian Navigator and Comm-Op had remained on board and had taken the stations usually manned by Sub-Lieutenant Krirtol and Spacer Dhine. The Adians allowed them no knowledge of where they were, nor the opportunity to send any messages.
She had no problem with that. Britlot appeared more relaxed than he had since before they had met the Phenomenon. The crew, on the other hand, showed tension.
Commander Travlot deferred to Britlot, and he brought the ship planetside. She was proud of the flawless way he landed Searcher. She knew he had landed a scoutship only twice previously. Then they disembarked, only to come face to face with a Fleet Admiral!
Now, as representative of her crew and the Confederation itself, she had to deal with a full captain. She sighed and wondered if her early promotion had been a good trade, after all.
“Lieutenant, we have quarters for you and your crew not far from the landing field.” A landcruiser approached as he spoke.
“Thank you, sir. I’ll want to leave personnel on board to maintain the ship.”
The Captain smiled, seeing through her politeness. “Of course. However, we’ll have to ask that you not use your detectors or comm equipment.”
“Naturally. You may post someone on our bridge.”
“Will you use your detectors or comm equipment?”
“No, sir. We will not.”
“Then I see no need to post anyone. A guard will remain outside to ensure no unauthorized persons approach your vessel, but that is merely normal security.” The Captain returned a salute as a lieutenant exited the landcruiser. “Lieutenant, please convey the Searcher’s crew to their quarters.” The Adian lieutenant turned to Sub-Lieutenant Krirtol and they began coordinating the move to land quarters.
“Lieutenant Weytok, if it is not too much to ask I would very much enjoy a tour of your vessel. Your quarters are not far from here and your Sub-Lieutenant Krirtol can handle the move. A small vehicle will be placed at your disposal, with driver, for you and your crew to come and go as you please.”
“Sub-Lieutenant, please see the crew quartered, then return here with Guns. The Captain and I will be on board.”
“Aye, sir,” Krirtol replied with a snappy salute.
Weytok smiled to herself. Her crew was on absolute best behavior. Britlot had warned them that they must, each and every one of them, consider themselves ambassadors of the Confederation. “This way, Captain.”
During an uneventful tour, Captain Kaldon asked pertinent questions, but not one could she consider in the least out of order. She would ask the very same questions in similar circumstances. Finally they arrived on the bridge.
“There. Done. I’ve locked out the detectors and comm. Only ship’s officers can now access them. Shall we repair to the wardroom?”
“By all means, Lieutenant. I’m very impressed with your ship.”
Weytok accepted the compliment and led the way to the wardroom where she opened the Lieutenant-Commander’s last bottle of Tsliristi wine—that she knew of—and poured a glass for the Captain. He sipped it appreciatively.
“So, this is Tsliristi wine. I’ve read about it in the history books. It lives up to its reputation.” He toasted the Confederation and she Adia. That done, they settled down and talked shop until Sub-Lieutenant Krirtol returned.
TORBIRD
“Action Stations!” Commander Rop Jaron hit the alarm and watched the bridge crew take their places and report in.
“Gunnery. We have three incoming ships, classification: Tlartox frigates, Stalker class,” Lieutenant Lowegtoten called out.
“Shields at maximum, Captain,” Jaron noted.
“Very good.” Captain Fronel glanced at his display. “Comm, pass our data o
n to the other escorts.”
“Data passed on, sir,” Lieutenant Sorbine reported. “Message from Hurricane.” Captain Ulla Thugan appeared on Fronel’s screen.
“Yes, Captain?”
“Cyclone and Typhoon are coming to your aid, Captain. Hurricane will proceed in accordance with Plan Echo.”
“Aye, sir.” Fronel turned to Lieutenant Wira Brilth. “Navigation, you heard. Plan Echo. Give me a course.”
Lieutenant Brilth hesitated, then pulled up the record. She made a few calculations while the bridge waited and watched. “Data on your screen, sir.”
“Helm, execute!”
“Aye, sir.”
“Comm, send out a message in the clear to Second Fleet, Squadron Six: ‘Trap sprung!’” On the screen the convoy defenders moved out to meet the Tlartox threat. Fronel ordered weapons free-fire and sat back.
Behind him, Commodore Prusnol laughed. He took a last look at the display and then called an end to the exercise. From their various rooms, the bridge officers of the other ships appeared. Prusnol waited for them to enter to critique the exercise. “It is a good strategy,” he admitted, “but against three Stalker class frigates, I fear that your short squadron wouldn’t have stood much of a chance. I particularly liked the message to Second Fleet, though.” Prusnol chuckled again.
“Okay, Hurricane’s crew will take the bridge for the next run. Everyone else back to the situation rooms.”
Captain Lemm Fronel led his people back to their room. There they took up position behind the simulators recently manned by Hurricane’s people. “Lieutenant Brilth, in future you will calculate more rapidly,” he said coldly.
Brilth, a very junior sub-lieutenant until her crisis-motivated promotion, flushed with shame.
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