Twenty more steps.
The eyes continued their relentless stare. No matter where Nimri dodged for cover, they followed her. Yet, she knew the beings didn’t move.
Had Kazza sensed these monsters lurking in the balata? Was that why he’d been afraid to accompany her?
Her fingers tightened around the dagger’s familiar grip. Nimri gathered all her energy then plunged past the last bough, blade raised to slash the golden eyes.
Her foot caught on a twinning root and she fell to the rocky soil.
Nimri broke her fall with her free hand, and sprang up to attack position.
Eight strides in front of her, a life size man and a woman were carved into the side of the mountain. Shiny metal formed their all-seeing golden eyes. Nimri felt so faint that the knife dropped from her now-limp fingers.
“Guardians of the Star Bridge,” she murmured. Nimri shivered and blinked, then fell to her knees, hoping they would accept her belated reverence. Her forehead touched the ground as she prostrated herself before the sainted pair.
As her oxygen starved brain analyzed the scene, she realized the ominous blackness between the male and female must be, “The Star Bridge!” She swallowed. “It exists!”
Thick sweet air settled over her like a benediction. Hoping she’d been pardoned for her ignorance, Nimri grabbed a balata bough for support and staggered upright.
Many legends involved tales about dying suns, magic gates and a new land. If the Guardians existed, how many of the other stories could be true? The balata bough she held slipped from her fingers.
The Guardians resided at the grove’s most sacred spot. Intense relief filled Nimri; she could scatter Rolf’s ashes and fulfill her vow. Nimri flexed her fingers, then picked up her knife and tucked it into her backpack. She took a deep breath. “There’s no time like the present.” She retrieved Quark’s ornate ceremonial urn. Carefully, she held the side with the Tramontain Hawk out for the Guardians to see. Then closing her eyes, she envisioned the ceremony.
A soft hum formed deep in her soul. It gained strength and volume as she danced the ritual steps. Opening the canister’s lid, she chanted the revered words. “Return now to the House of the Dead.”
Her hands shook the urn and she released the ashes.
“Lay within the earth until violets bloom, then return to us as if new.”
Her entire body quivered as the chant ended. It took a moment to realize the shaking was not from emotion, but because the mountain was shaking.
Earthquake!
A heartbeat later, a balata trunk wrenched free from the ground, whacked her spine, and knocked her into the opening.
Nimri fell down the shaft toward gigantic teeth. She screamed.
~0~
Gradually, the haze in Larwin’s helmet cleared, but breathing remained torturous. Though it was tempting to increase the oxygen level, in these last hours of life, every moment became more precious than the one before. He stood quietly and stared at one portion of the chamber, which shimmered with a vague purple light. Half convinced his mind was playing tricks; he pointed his las-projector at the strange glow. It illuminated a smooth charcoal gray floor and several debris piles. The pile closest to the obscure luminescence appeared reddish instead of blackened.
Strange.
Larwin moved toward the anomaly. “GEA-4, scan this area. I want to know why it appears different.”
“I am complying.” The sensual voice echoed in the subterranean passage until it sounded like a brothel of risqué remarks surrounded him.
He stomped against the flat floor, hoping the thud of his boots would drown out her presence. It worked for ten minutes then from behind him, she said, “I am picking up unknown readings.”
While Larwin waited for her to add more, he studied the phenomena; glad to have something besides his impending death to occupy his mind.
Dim magenta light seemed to filter past desiccated stalactites and stalagmites within the mouth of an old cave. Clearly, the water and all other moisture had evaporated when the planetoid burned. Larwin ran his glove over the surface. Despite heavy insulation, he felt the difference between the smooth man-made wall of the mine and the grotto's natural texture, but that did not account for the glow.
“Do you detect any phosphor deposits?” Larwin asked.
“No, I do not.”
Deep within the cave, a woman screamed.
Functioning on instinct, Larwin ran toward the sound. His visor fogged, obscuring his already limited vision. His left boot caught and his shoulder smashed against a stalactite. Pain shot through him as he stumbled, and then crashed face first against a wall.
Dazed, he tried to orient himself.
A moment later, he stepped back and fanned his light-projector, exposing grainy brownish rock and sinister shadows.
Perhaps he should increase the oxygen to avoid hallucinating screams. Even as he thought it, he became positive he’d actually heard one. He held his breath and listened, but the only sounds were ones he made. Larwin gasped for air; his ragged panting sounded like tiny cries. Could contaminated air induce believable illusions?
Perspiration and tears of frustration mingled. He punched the rocky wall of the dead end. His fisted black glove flashed maroon as he drew back for a second strike. He stared at his hand and trained the beam of his light on it but the plastoid appeared as shiny black as the day he’d been issued the gloves. Larwin shook his head at what an oxygen-deprived mind could imagine. No, he assured himself, the only light came from his projector. To prove it, he slowly moved his hand forward. Again, it gleamed with the odd iridescence. Larwin moved his hand left and right, then up and down, and then he peered upward.
Dapples of gently undulating light splattered from an opening high above him.
Red light.
Did the planetoid have a molten core? Larwin simultaneously felt hot and cold. He blinked hard, clearing his vision. This time, when he stared upward, he looked for an access to the strange opening. None existed. He looked down for something to climb on and saw a corpse sprawled near his right boot.
Cautiously, he knelt next to the face down form and stared at the, strange magenta confetti and odd little gold bells, which mixed with the reddish dirt covering the woman. Too bad she’d died, her lithe physique would credit a dancer. He stretched out his hand to touch her, then remembering how the doll had disintegrated, pulled back. Undecided about his next action, he sat back on his heels and studied the woman, who appeared to be at least a foot taller than GEA-4, but shorter than his own height.
Her dust-covered pants and tunic appeared remarkably well preserved. Her long hair, bound into a long, thick black braid, hung off her shoulder and onto the dirt, yet seemed to shine beneath the grime.
The lacy confetti and bells seemed alive, too. It took a moment for Larwin to realize he was looking at some sort of plant-life. A tattoo of a flower on her shoulder had been exposed when her sleeve was ripped away.
On Guerreterre, only the wealthiest owned vegetation and they kept their prizes behind the locked doors of private atriums. How odd to find leaves in this inhospitable place.
Despite her slave-like attire, the woman must have been someone of great consequence.
Why only one corpse? Were the piles of rubbish some sort of tomb offering laid outside her sleeping chamber?
Larwin panned light over her golden-hued flesh. He would have bet anything bodies dehydrated in airless atmospheres.
Bending closer, he studied the woman’s strange roughly woven two-piece outfit. The fabric, a battlefield of rents and filth, had probably been brown or tan, Guerreterre’s color of mourning. Panning the light lower, Larwin noted that her feet were clad in leather moccasins. One lacerated hand still grasped the remnants of a primitive urn, while the rest of the old pot lay in a starburst around her. Why did she clutch it in death?
How long had she lain in this primitive tomb?
Larwin speculated that he would join her in eternal, perfectly
preserved slumber in roughly ninety hours.
Maybe less.
He could already smell his body decomposing. Radzuk, but he needed a sonic shower!
Larwin focused on the odd leaves and bells. Why were such obviously expensive, lacy, magenta leaves strewn over and around the woman? Despite her primitive slave-class attire, the foliage made her seem like someone of great importance.
GEA-4 arrived. Despite carrying all three boxes, plus his haversack, she moved with ease. His jaw tightened with the memory of his struggle to carry the gear.
Larwin got up and took a step toward the antagonizing machine.
GEA-4 stopped and stared at the woman. “The arm she lies on is broken in three places, but repairable. I detect no other major damage.” GEA-4 turned aside and put down the gear.
Larwin’s hands clenched as his patience snapped. “What difference does that make?”
“Probabilities indicate she will resume consciousness in seven point five nine minutes.”
“You speak of her as if she’s alive.” Derision laced his tone. What should he have expected from an android, which didn’t have enough sense to repulse space debris?
“My scanners indicate she lives.”
“Impossible!” Larwin’s eyes narrowed on her. Faulty scanners would explain the circumstances which contributed to the crash and why they now stood next to a corpse in the bowels of the earth. “Do your scanners indicate how? No humanoid can survive without air, water and food.”
“That is correct. However, this portion of the cavern has sufficient oxygen. The woman is well nourished and has only suffered mild dehydration recently. The air’s moisture is limited. Probabilities indicate water is a seasonal element. I do not detect traces of food other than your rations.”
Larwin snorted. Definitely faulty scanners.
The woman groaned. Larwin jumped away from her. A small cloud of dust rose, where he’d been standing.
Once the dust settled, the tail of her braid was almost indistinguishable from the floor.
He eased back toward the woman. After a moment’s hesitation, Larwin gingerly touched her. When she didn't turn to dust, like the doll, he took a good grip and turned her over. Scratches and grime crisscrossed her face. She reminded him of his little sister, partly because Tem-aki’s play had usually left her a mess, but also because, beneath the grime, this woman’s long, lean bone structure appeared perfect. He inhaled sharply at the astounding superiority of her beauty. He leaned back on his heels and studied her equally appealing body. Except for the contorted arm she’d landed on, her horrible clothing and her general filth, she looked flawless from head to toe.
“The bones should be repaired before she becomes alert,” GEA-4 said. “Would you like me to align them?”
“Do it.”
GEA-4 manipulated the arm with the typical finesse, precision and compassion of a machine. He winced.
Another groan came from the woman. Stronger this time.
“Hurry,” he said. “I’ll find something to use for splints and bindings.” Anything seemed better than watching the brutal, but necessary remedy.
“I am conducting the repairs as punctually as possible.”
Larwin grabbed his haversack, dumped out the contents and frantically searched through his belongings. He chose a sock, a belt and finally the plexiboard from his logbook. Using his las-cutter on low, Larwin molded the plastoid board into a curved form. GEA-4 yanked the sock over the woman’s straightened arm for protection against chaffing, then applied the plastic for strength and supported it with a sling made from the belt.
He sat back on his heels and watched GEA-4. One part of him wanted to treat the woman, himself, but logic told him that GEA-4’s probes could facilitate exact manipulations. Still, the rough handling GEA-4 provided would never qualify her as a med-tech any more than her faulty programming had met the requirements for her to be a worthy pilot.
GEA-4 finished and stepped back.
Larwin knelt near the woman’s shoulder and stared at her profile, certain that he’d met her somewhere.
But how?
When?
He leaned forward, brushed aside some strands of raven hair and studied her perfectly sculpted oval face. Somehow, it reminded him of GEA-4’s, yet glancing at the android’s profile, he decided they were 180 degrees polar opposites. Compared to the woman, the android looked like a diminutive faded imitation.
A tan leather cord circled the woman’s neck. Larwin gave it a gentle pull and discovered it secured a beaded leather amulet. This seemed familiar, too. He frowned in concentration then recalled a museum display he’d seen years before. Though temptation urged him to look inside, he restrained his curiosity and refocused on her face. When had he last seen a woman free of cosmetics? Did they all hide such exquisite natural allure under their powders and glazes?
Then she opened her eyes.
Larwin saw a flash of green, then her pupils dilated, her body went rigid and she screamed. It sounded identical to the one, which had drawn him into the cavern.
Abruptly, her body relaxed. Again, she lay limp in the dust.
“What’s wrong with her?” If GEA-4 told him he’d scared the woman to death, he would pull out her speech circuit and disintegrate it.
“My sensors detected a burst of emotion. Probabilities indicate she will resume consciousness in five point nine seven minutes.”
“Is that your way of saying the sight of me frightened her?”
“It is possible.”
How had the rotten robot twisted the incident to make him feel as if he’d done something wrong? Worse, why would any woman swoon after a glimpse of him? He scowled. Did she fear for her life because she belonged to a terrorist band that attacked Guerreterre 's supply lines?
Larwin brushed grime from her face and wondered if she’d ever seen a man before. Then the sight of his heavily gloved hand registered and he stopped in mid-motion. If this woman came from a primitive race, as her garments indicated, seeing him in his deep-space uniform could be enough to cause a faint. On the other hand, several militant factions would use any disguise to further their goals. “GEA-4, scan the atmosphere for bio hazards and if there are none, determine if my body will tolerate it.”
“Compared to Guerreterre, there is a point two less oxygen. The gravitational field is point zero one five lower.”
Must the android always be so damned precise and long winded? “So you’re saying it’s safe to remove my environmental suit? A simple yes or no will suffice.”
“Yes.”
Larwin snapped a latch-pin on his helmet. “Be advised, if you’re wrong, I’m disconnecting you.”
“That is an illogical statement. If I am wrong, you will not survive. If you do not survive, you cannot disconnect me.”
Damned logical machine. “I’ll find a way.” Larwin yanked off his helmet and took a breath. Dry, stagnant air would have been an improvement over his rank suit. While the expected staleness existed, an enticing, exotic aroma mixed with the dry air. The elusive scent reminded him of something sugary sweet and spicy. Perhaps cologne or perfume. He leaned close to the woman’s throat and inhaled deeply but only detected the salty scent of perspiration and fear.
He frowned in concentration as he studied the strange cave. Then, he pulled off his gloves and reverently picked up a magenta leaf. He sniffed. Honey, nutmeg, cloves and ginger mixed with rich humus, an odor found in arboretums. The smell of vast wealth. The smell of power. The smell of living plants. The smell of all his dreams. Found in the bowels of a dead planet.
Mouth watering with two types of hunger, Larwin sat back on his heels and reverently twirled the leaf between his fingers.
“The female is alert.”
Pretending a calm he didn’t feel, Larwin turned toward the raven-haired woman. Her wide-eyed gaze fixed on GEA-4.
“She doesn’t seem frightened of you.” He forced his anger aside and kept his tone calm.
“That is logical.” To
his disgust, the woman relaxed more every time GEA-4 spoke.
“Why is that logical?”
“I am an Anthropoid-pilot-unit; not to be feared. You are a warrior, trained to conquer worlds, control galaxies and generate fear in all who oppose the Guerreterre regime.”
"Damned right." The woman focused on him. He saw his reflection mixed with panic in her darting glance and wondered how he could calm her. He forced a smile. Her eyes widened with fear. Did his rank show? Being the youngest to achieve the status of Colonel in the elite branch of Shadow Warriors had been the proudest moment of his life. Why hadn’t any of his courses in the military academy dealt with how to handle a face-to-face contact?
For the first time in his life, Larwin wanted to hide the shiny black Fighting Falcon emblem. He placed his palm over the war-bird on his chest, and used his softest manner. “My name is Colonel Larwin Atano of Guerreterre’s Shadow Force.” He waited for her response.
She made none.
Could she be mute? Had more than her arm been damaged?
No, she could scream.
“GEA-4, place your hand on your chest and state your name.” Maintaining a peaceful tone and manner seemed harder than waging war on an entire galaxy. “Now.” Sustaining a smile made his face ache, but he needed this woman to show him how to survive in this hole.
“Anthropoid version 4 from Galactic Engineering’s experimental pilot program.”
Larwin saw a flicker of comprehension. Then, the woman tried to point at her own chest but the makeshift splint hampered her. He’d thought her eyes were already enormous, but they enlarged into bottomless black orbs as she raised her injured arm and stared at the crude cast.
He tapped the flinty matte-black thigh of his flight suit until he got her attention. Then, he pointed to her arm and made a breaking motion with his hands. Larwin grimaced to stress the point. Next, he indicated GEA-4 and pantomimed how she had set the bones. The woman gaped at him for several long moments then cautiously sat up. She pointed at herself. “Nimri Tramontain.” Her finger touched her bandaged arm. She looked at GEA-4, tried smiling and when that didn’t elicit a response from the robot, she spoke some more.
Star Bridge (Chaterre Trilogy Book 1) Page 4