by Ava D. Dohn
* * *
Darla lay on the bed, her eyes staring up into the darkness of her tiny cabin, listening to Jebbson’s heavy breathing, feeling the weight of his sweaty arm resting across her breasts. It had been a very difficult episode with the demon this night and both she and the major were exhausted from the struggle. For now, the beast was hiding, and with good reason. The sheer force and raw energy unleashed upon it was overpowering. Unlike Euroaquilo or Ardon, Jebbson was as wild and ruthless as the demon itself, being borne of the same master.
There was no more need to attempt sleep. It had long since fled, as it had done these past six nights. The genocide at Exothepobole and the murder of Tashi haunted Darla day and night. In their many dream shares, Ardon had often fantasized over being with the woman he so deeply cherished. Darla could see the two in the sweetness of love-making, him revealing secrets about his own inner doubts and insecurities that he had never dared even whisper to another soul.
A wave of loneliness enveloped Darla as she lay there, warm and comfortable in the secure feeling of Jebbson’s protection. The woman thought of Euroaquilo and began to quietly weep, seeing him gone from her life as Tashi was from Ardon’s. How could she ever live if disaster struck and took him away? Lifting Jebbson’s arm, Darla slipped from the bed, the man’s continued heavy breathing assuring her that he still slept undisturbed. Gingerly sliding the panel door opened, she stepped into companionway, closing the cabin door behind her.
It was standard military practice to set up shipboard life in a twenty-four hour cycle, imitating the rotation times of EdenEsonbar. It was now late night aboard the Shikkeron. Other than those on duty roster, the remainder of the crew was squirreled away in the solitude of their own private worlds. Walking through the darkened corridors in the quiet morning hours was a soothing pastime for Darla. She could feel the reassuring, pulsing throb of the ship’s powerful engines through the metal deck plates, while cool, filtered air blowing from overhead vents would bathe her naked body in a refreshing tingle.
At moments like this, Darla often closed her eyes and imagined being returned to childhood days of early spring in the mountains near Palace City. She could see herself running through melting drifts, forlorn little islands of snow in an ocean of green, awash with flecks of yellow and white. These were the last bastions of winter’s great invasion, the remaining resistance of a conquered season now fleeing north. Darla was the herald of their final doom and her occasional defeat when she slipped and fell into the icy crystals only hastened their destruction. Snow would spray into the grass while the child hopped up, shivering, until the sun again warmed her unclothed flesh.
With eyes closed, Darla stretched and, throwing her shoulders back, sucked in the air ‘til her lungs ached with pleasure, reveling in the oxygen-rich intoxication, holding it until her body cried for more. Letting go, the air leaked past her lips, gradually shrinking the woman’s stature as her chest compressed and shoulders sank. With deliberate control, she stood motionless, eyes still closed, the look of anticipated satisfaction quickly fading from her face.
Darla’s eyes popped open. She glanced around. Something wasn’t right. The loneliness was still with her. Or was it loneliness? The woman lifted her nose toward the ceiling as if sniffing the breeze. There it was, for sure - an undercurrent of discord that she could feel between her shoulders and in the back of her head. Then the chilling whisper of a sinister snigger in her mind sent a shiver racing down her back. Was the demon aware of some hidden evil brewing? Whatever it was, Darla wasn’t going to patiently wait in inactivity. That had never been her style.
Quietly slipping back into her cabin, Darla found Phulakee, strapping its belt around her waist. She exited the room and stealthily hurried down the corridor. Passing sickbay, she noticed Ardon slumped over Sergeant Oida, fast asleep, his hand still closed around hers. Darla couldn’t help but feel wonder and compassion. The man had not left the woman’s side since returning to the Shikkeron. Thanks to his continuous healing powers and the surgeon’s outstanding work in saving her leg, the sergeant was rapidly recovering. Just earlier that day, they had her up and walking. Darla hurried on.
After giving pause, she decided to visit the bridge. Quietly passing through the entrance hatch, Darla looked up at the captain’s bridge and then forward to the communications deck. She climbed the ladder stairs and casually approached the bridge officer who smiled her friendly hello. The officer eyed Darla’s sword with curiosity, seeing she was not in uniform, but said nothing about it. She went on to engage the colonel in some friendly banter.
Darla glanced over at the steerage officer who was busy at his controls, quietly whistling a little tune. Satisfied at what she saw, but still ill at ease, she asked the bridge officer, “Do we have a good head, Leftenant?”
The woman nodded and smiled. “Yes, Colonel Adaya. We’re running clear and strong. All systems are ‘go’.”
Darla returned the smile. “Thank you, Leftenant.” She then stepped up to the forward rail and looked down at the communications deck.
Although having been ordered to stand down from general quarters, the Shikkeron was still on alert status, meaning that all essential duty stations maintained a full roster around the clock. The communication’s deck was one such place. Scanning the late night hustle of an overcrowded bridge, Darla could see nothing out of the ordinary. She shook her head. Maybe it was just the stress from recent events catching up with her.
Darla slowly made her way along the bridge, examining dials and gages. Everything seemed fine. She shrugged. Her nightly struggle with the demon in her mind had exhausted the woman more than she realized. Surrendering her uncertainties, Darla decided to return to her cabin. Passing the navigation station, Darla glanced over at the holo-screen and froze. It was clear of any blips. “Where are our escorts?!” She demanded, grabbing hold of the navigation officer’s arm.
Surprised, the officer nervously replied, “Why, they and the Divulsion were sent north to rendezvous with the OjibSheannon.”
“When?!” Darla demanded. “And who gave the order!?”
The officer of the bridge interrupted, “Some two hours ago, Colonel. It was just before we passed the Twin Suns, east of the QuinStinre Basin. The captain ordered it.”
Darla paled as Euroaquilo’s words of caution came to mind. ‘We can only give you cover as far as QuinStinre.’ Then she heard a quiet cackle in the back of her head. “Turn us around!” Darla demanded. She repeated her command, almost shouting “Turn us around! Now!!”
“Colonel?!” the bridge officer was dumbfounded.
Darla got in her face. “Turn this tub around now or I’ll run you through!”
Without waiting for a reply, the colonel shouted down to the communication’s bridge, “Recall the Divulsion and it escorts! Tell it to ‘burn up the engines’ for the closest quadrant of the Outer Corridor on an intercept course with us. Give them a code red!”
“Colonel,” The bridge officer sputtered, “I have the helm!”
Darla drew Phulakee and shoved its point in the woman’s face, growling defiant, “I rule this bridge! Do as you’re ordered!”
A very shaken lieutenant turned and ordered the Shikkeron around.
Darla shouted down to the communications officer, “Send this message to the Fleet: ‘The western star falls into shadows’.” She shook her sword in the bridge officer’s face, “Sound general quarters! And call the captain to the bridge!”
In two minutes, a disheveled and very angry Bedan stumbled up the ladder to the captain’s bridge. He was met with the point of a blazing-hot derker blade. Darla stood with feet spread, eyes ablaze, seething with rage. “Tell me the meaning of this or I’ll skewer you to the bridge head!”
Bedan saw death coming quickly and threw his hands up, crying, “The meaning of what, Colonel?! The meaning of what!?”
“This!” She pointed toward the upper di
splay that was now showing the navigator’s screen along with a grid of coordinates. Her upper lip curled as she fumed, “You were fully informed that we were not to pass QuinStinre for any reason! What say you about this!?” Darla squinted as she eyed captain Bedan with suspicion. “Sooooo…” The woman bared her teeth. “Are you the gall hidden in the sweet wine, the agent used to dull our senses while the darkness gathers us in!?”
Bedan might have been offended had he not been so concerned for his life. He denied being any part of a conspiracy, pleading, “Queen Adaya, my fate is the same as yours! Together we shall live or die! Your enemies are my enemies.”
Darla interrupted, sarcastically demanding, “Tell me, my loyal comrade, what good reason was there to send the Divulsion away and leave us stripped of power and impotent!? Your orders have left us a lone lion in a jungle filled with hyenas! Should the pack still remain, we can not stand their attack!”
“I have no idea what your…” Bedan followed Darla’s hand to the display. His eyes bulged as his face filled with excitement and disbelief as he began to stutter, “I…I…didn’t…didn’t issue any orders!”
“Oh, really?” Darla snorted in surprise, tightening her grip on Phulakee. “Your deck officers say differently...”
Whining, Bedan cried, “I issued no orders! I issued no orders!” He looked beseechingly at his junior officers.
“You did, Captain!” The bridge officer countered while the steerage and navigation officers nodded in agreement. She then defended her statement. “About twenty minutes after you retired from the bridge with the 1st officer, he came back, issuing us your written orders.” She pulled a paper from the message log and handed it to Bedan.
Bedan wildly shook the paper, “I didn’t write this!”
Darla took the note and examined it. She suspiciously eyed Bedan. “Sure looks like your signature, Cap-tain.”
Bedan fumed, “Well it’s not! IT’S NOT! I want to find out what’s going on!”
Darla slowly lowered her blade. “I wish to get some answers, too. Your 1st officer should be able to set matters straight.” She ordered the bridge, “Contact Major Garlock and the Marine ready room. Have him and two Marines meet us on the officers’ deck on the double! And no more written commands, understood?”
The officer nodded, acknowledging Darla’s orders, then asked, “Are you taking command of the Shikkeron, Colonel?”
Darla responded, “No, a man is innocent until proven guilty. Captain Bedan remains master of this ship until the facts are known. If he is innocent, then I owe him my sincerest apologies. If he is guilty, he will not be returning to the bridge.”
Darla sheathed Phulakee while calling two Navy orderlies to accompany them. She then asked Bedan, “Ready?” Bedan nodded, leading the way from the bridge.
In a few minutes, the party met up with Jebbson, who had managed to pull on a pair of pants and grab his gun belt before bolting off to the sounding of general quarters. The two Marines, each carrying a sidearm, arrived just behind him. The group hurried down the passageway to the 1st officer’s cabin.
Bedan pounded on the 1st officer’s door, shouting for him to answer. No reply. Finally, the two orderlies muscled their way into the room by forcing the door off its track. Darkness rushed out to greet them, carrying upon its breeze the faint odor of perfume and exhausted passion accompanied by some other disquieting smell.
Darla’s demon let loose with wild, screeching laughter, the woman buckling as she clutched her head in pain. Jebbson reached out, taking hold of her arm. “Colonel Adaya?”
Tears of agony grew in Darla’s eyes as she cried, “Get out! Get out, now!”
The orderlies quickly obeyed, stumbling over one another in their hurry. Darla was on her knees, saliva dripping from her mouth, fighting back a sudden nausea sweeping over her. Jebbson knelt beside her, offering support while slowly rubbing her back in hopes of easing the sickness.
The demon quickly loosed its grip on Darla’s mind, surrendering to the woman’s willpower and, feeling Jebbson’s presence, hastened its retreat to safer havens. With Jebbson’s assistance, Darla stood, her knees a little wobbly at first. When she got her wits about her, she asked for a light, warning everyone to stay clear of the room.
A Marine quickly retrieved a portable light-pack from his pocket and offered it to Darla. She stepped up to the doorway and shone the light it into the cabin. A body - or what looked like one - lay fallen back on the bed. Already, white crusty patches were forming over oozing, red blotches that would swell up and pop, spraying white puss and mist into the air. Darla shook her head. “It’s the Red Leprosy. Quick! Get me an extinguisher.”
One of the Marines hurried down the corridor and soon returned with a huge metal canister filled with a foam concentrate used to fight fires. Darla grabbed it with both hands and sprayed the room with its thick, sticky goo. When finished, she turned back to the orderlies. “You two get to sickbay. That stuff has a very short incubation time. Tell the surgeon you were exposed to type A leprosy. He’ll know what to do.”
The two orderlies needn’t be told twice to make haste for sickbay. Everyone in the First Realm knew what this red leprosy was. In ages past, a milder form was used to deliver wrath upon traitors and false prophets in the Second Realm. After Michael took over as steward, it was decided to discontinue using such plagues on the people of that world. Lowenah’s children disposed of all their reserves, but they still carried the antidote because Asotos’ people threatened its use. Darla explained all this to Jebbson as she watched the orderlies hurry away.
She then let out a weary sigh. “The foam will contain it. You can only catch the infection if you touch it or inhale the mist from a sore. Someone didn’t want our 1st officer talking. His last romantic interlude came at a heavy cost.”
Jebbson queried, “Why do you speak of his romancing someone?”
Darla’s face was grim. “The dream-share is part of our inherent culture. It is Lowenah’s gift to her daughters to be able to make request of a man to give to her this pleasure. Asotos has been known to corrupt Mother’s gifts in his clandestine war against our people…and so with this one. It was successfully used in assassination plots. You see, a female enemy agent could attach a gel membrane to the rugae of her vaginal canal. It could remain there for weeks or months, with no way of being detected.”
An emergency medical team came rushing down the corridor. They were suited up in protective clothing, wearing full headgear and carrying containment equipment. One of the medical team personnel requested that everyone wait there. Darla and the others backed down the hall until called.
The colonel finished filling Jebbson in. “When the woman finally got to be with the desired victim, she could use certain pelvic muscles to release a tiny syringe into the man’s male member. If everything worked as planned, in about twenty minutes the man would start coming down with the first symptoms. By that time, the woman had long departed the scene and, with use of another common chemical, injected into her female member, she could destroy all trace of the encounter, including the male’s DNA.”
“Within a minute or two after the first symptom – a numbing tingle in the outer extremities accompanied by a mild fever - a crippling paralysis would set in. By the time open sores appeared - like on our 1st officer - the victim was long dead from the internal destruction of his vital organs.”
Darla sadly shook her head. “It took years to find out what was happening. Dozens of our best leaders and thinkers died before it was figured out. We finally developed an easy, inconspicuous test to determine who might be carrying such a device. Most of the female enemy agents were caught, bringing an end to the scourge. It’s been so long since something like this has been done, few even bother to take precautions anymore. We may have to change our thinking after tonight.”
Their attention was drawn to the far end of the corridor. The ship’s surgeon, follo
wed by an assistant, hurried to meet them. He glanced into the cabin where the medical team was busy working. They had just finished enclosing the officer’s body in a sealed bag, and were beginning to strip the room of all contents.
The surgeon hurried on, stopping in front of the captain. Without saying a word, he extracted a light and, while pulling down Bedan’s lower eyelid, shone it into his eye. He let out a sigh of satisfaction and moved on to a Marine standing next to Bedan. The surgeon’s assistant quickly followed up, administering an antidote, first to Bedan and then the others.
Darla had just been inoculated when a voice on the overhead requested the captain’s presence on the bridge. Following Bedan down the companionway, Darla called back over her shoulder to Jebbson and the Marines, “Join me on the bridge when you’re finished there.” Off she ran to catch up with Bedan.