Jeanne G'Fellers - No Sister of Mine

by Jeanne G'Fellers

  “Faith, Krell. Have faith.” Firman took the clothing from his sibling’s shaking hands and drew Krell’s pale palms into his dark ones. “Remember when you lost Mother’s amulet?”

  “Yeah,” she mumbled.

  “Remember how Father gave it to you for your tenth birthday?”

  “Yeah.”

  “How long did you have to look for it before you found it?”

  “Over two passes,” Krell whispered between sobs.

  “You never gave up searching, did you?” Firman squeezed her hands. “Answer me. Did you?”

  “No.”

  “The amulet meant so much you never thought to quit,” he continued. “Do you care about LaRenna half as much as that fool piece of jewelry?”

  “I was going to give that fool piece of jewelry to her when I saw her next. Life won’t be worth living without her. Oh, Firman, what have I done?”

  “You’ve done nothing but love. We’ll find her. How hard can it be?”

  “Firman, I—”

  “Don’t Firman me, Krelleesha Tanchana Middle.” Firman’s tone reminded Krell of their father, to whom Firman bore a striking resemblance. “She’s waiting for you. You heard her cries. She needs our help. As long as there’s a chance she’s alive, we’ll search for her.”

  Krell’s somber eyes focused on him. “We?”

  “Think I’d let you go it alone?”

  She shook her head. “I’m a blubbering idiot, Fir. You’re always around when I need you most.”

  “That’s what big brothers are for, help and aggravation.” He caught Krell’s head and knuckle-scrubbed the top. “We better get to the launch. I left Tatra to carry the bags.”

  “You didn’t!” Krell chuckled at the thought of the thin-framed healer juggling substantial baggage.

  “Yes, I did.” Firman assisted her rise. “It’s good to see a smile on your face, even a small one. Now, let’s go.”

  The firefight continued around the Center’s Assembly. Cance’s select four had successfully taken control of the facility’s perimeter and were maintaining their ground, waiting for the scan decoder to work its magic on the hatchway’s encrypted codes.

  “Hurry up!” The tanned Autlach drew flat against one of the building’s decorative pillars. He wished nothing more than to be with his family. This wasn’t his idea of a glorious victory, and martyrdom now seemed pointless. “Do it now! The entire base will be on us in a minute.”

  “Two markings left. Hold your position.” Longhair watched as one then the other locking number fell into place. A yellow light signaled the hatch’s release, allowing him to avoid the volley of blaster fire that rained on their position. Once inside, he took his bearings and located the master control panel. “All right, here we go. Blue means water supplies, gold sanitation tube ways, brown, green. Where’s the confounded black key locks?” They sat to the side of the main panel array, protected by a heavy glass case. He smashed the cover with a padded elbow, setting off a blaring base-wide alarm. The small hardwire box Cance had entrusted him with hooked easily to the locks and repeated the same repetitious jumble of numbers. One by one, they clicked into place.

  “Atmospheric Purge System activated. Secondary authorization required for this action.” The Assembly’s computer spoke in the rhythmic feminine alto typical of Taelach-installed systems. The hardwire box clicked in response, this time a much shorter series of numbers flashing across its screen.

  “No!” screamed Longhair. “The security grid, not atmospheric controls!”

  “Security matrix controls are designated by yellow key locks, black is for atmospheric controls only.” The reply came as the final number unencrypted. “Atmospheric purge system on line. Deionization to begin in five minutes.”

  “Raskhallak’s wrath and hell’s glory, what have I done?” Longhair pounded the control panel. “Shut it down!”

  “Off moon authorization from two remote locations is required for that action. Four minutes thirty seconds remaining.” Longhair started throwing random key locks. “Environmental purge sequence automatically disables all other systems,” replied the computer. “No further action is necessary. Four minutes ten seconds remaining. Immediate evacuation of all remaining personnel is required at this time.”

  ***

  The same countdown that sounded in the Center’s Assembly echoed across all of Langus. Firman and Krell skidded to a stop, mortified when they heard the announcement.

  “No!”

  “Get us out of here, Krell!”

  “LaRenna!”

  “Cance wouldn’t stay on a moon on its way to a purge,” shouted Firman, “and neither should we!” He jerked her arm until she resumed running. They reached the Taelach-designated platforms a few seconds later, running straight into Tatra.

  “Open this thing!” She tugged at the doors of planetary launch.

  Krell entered her access code, released the door latch, and followed the others inside. Firman secured the hatch while Krell began the preflight functions necessary to disengage the landing locks.

  “Let’s go!” Tatra’s primped face twisted with terror.

  “Sit down and hold on! It’s fixing to get bumpy!” warned Krell and the engines roared to life. She throttled the craft upward, bounding it into flight with a violent rock that sent Tatra careening to the floor. Firman pulled her up, planted her in the seat next to his, and secured her safety harness.

  “When Krell says hold on, she means it.” Tatra nodded and held fast to her seat, the first time Firman had ever seen her without a showy comeback.

  They entered the lower levels of the Langus atmosphere as the countdown ended. Violent sulfurous thunderheads could be seen forming to the south, blue-green streaks of lightning cracking through them. Tatra turned to watch in gruesome fascination, her mouth opening and closing in awe. Firman jeered at her indiscretion and jerked her back around. “I once heard a story about a woman who died when she looked back to witness the destruction of a city. Best not tempt fate.”

  “Sounds like one of Krell’s stories from the ancient human colony.” Tatra glowered at him but remained facing forward.

  “It is one of my stories, Tatra. It’s about a man named Lot and his wife who turned to a pillar of salt for being sick-minded enough to watch the death of others.” Krell rotated the pilot’s seat. “We’re clear of Langus. The Predator has signaled. It’ll be here within the hour. Not a word from either of you about LaRenna not being with us. I’ll tell her raisers myself. It’s my duty.” Krell glanced around the craft in search of their baggage. If nothing else, LaRenna’s personal effects might provide some comfort. “Where’s our stuff?”

  “I think we left it on the platform,” replied Firman.

  “Oh.” Krell turned back to the controls and sank back in her seat, crying softly. It wasn’t that the material items mattered, but they had been tangible. They were all she had possessed of LaRenna and now they, too, were gone.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Necessity can make competitors into coconspirators.

  —Taelach wisdom

  Third Engineer Malley Whellen stood at her station, reading the updates on the Iralian fleet’s position. Master Engineer Freena Ockson, her lengthy braids looped neatly behind one ear, pushed past her, rushing here and there in final preparations for battle. “Anything new, Whellen?” Ockson was elbow deep in fine-tuning the Predator’s forward shield array.

  “We seem to be faring well,” replied Malley. “The largest of the Iralian ships has been crippled. It’s retreated behind the boundary line.”

  “Thanks be to the Mother for that small miracle,” said Ockson wistfully. “I was hoping for something good to tell Grandmaster Exzal. You schooled with her daughter, didn’t you?”

  “Yes, Master Ockson, I did.”

  “Pity to lose one so young.”

  “What?” Malley spun around.

  “Hadn’t you heard? She was posted on Langus.”

  “Oh my.” Malley
fell hard against the wall. Ockson assisted her to a seat at the deck’s massive worktable.

  “I wouldn’t have told you if I had known it would affect you so, child.” Ockson looked sympathetically at Malley. “You knew her well?”

  “We roomed together for over three passes.” Malley’s stomach churned. “I never got to tell her goodbye at the Training Grounds.”

  “You have my deepest sympathies. I’m sure she was a good friend.” Ockson helped Malley into a seat. “Was your relationship with—” The deck lift doors slid open and both engineers came to attention, Malley sniffling as Belsas came on deck.

  “Grandmaster Exzal!” Ockson held a tight salute Belsas quickly returned. “There is good news to report. The Blackmore has been heavily damaged. She’s retreated her position.”

  “That is good to hear. At rest, Engineers. Return to your duties.” Belsas took the worktable’s lead chair, letting the others situate themselves before speaking. Malley, as required, stepped back to her workstation but kept an ear to the discussion.

  “Let me introduce my companions,” said Belsas with a wide sweep of her arm. “You know my life mate, Chandrey Belsas.” Ockson and Chandrey exchanged brief pleasantries. “Beside her is First Kimshee Krell Middle and, uh—”

  Firman leaned across the table to shake Ockson’s hand. “Guess I’m literally the odd man out here,” he chuckled. “I’m Firman Middle, Assistant Hiring Hallmaster at what used to be South Coast Langus. It’s a pleasure.”

  “Odd staff if I do say so, Belsas.” Ockson smiled wryly at her old friend. “This is my assistant, Third Engineer Malley Whellen.” Ockson patted the remaining seat at the table. “Sit, Whellen. You’ll fall over if you lean this direction any farther. Program your station screen to read at the table.”

  “Thank you, Master Ockson.” Malley took her seat and kept her eyes focused on the screen.

  Krell sat back. “Malley Whellen? The name is familiar.”

  “It should be, Krell,” said Chandrey. “Malley is LaRenna’s best friend from the Training Grounds. How are you, Malley?”

  “Devastated to hear about LaRenna,” Malley replied faintly. “I’ll miss her.”

  “She’s not dead!” Krell pounded the table. “She’s very much alive. It’s just a matter of time until we find her.”

  “Please excuse First Kimshee Middle’s shortness,” said Belsas. “Krell Middle is LaRenna’s intended. That’s why she and her brother are here. The Predator is going to lead the search for my daughter and those holding her captive.”

  “Where do we begin?” asked Ockson, surprised the news had failed to relieve Malley. “There are an endless number of places they could be headed.”

  “Sarian space wouldn’t be safe for them.” Krell pondered the envious glare she was receiving from Malley. “There was an Iralian in the group. We should begin by scanning for lone launches headed toward the system’s edge.”

  “Whellen, initiate the necessary program. I’ll take the updates myself.” Ockson input a string of commands into her terminal. “Seems we have the Iralians on the defensive. Twelve ships destroyed. Ten theirs, two ours.”

  “Either of them Taelach?” asked Belsas.

  Firman raised his brows. “Does them being Autlach make the loss any less significant?” he asked.

  “No, it doesn’t,” replied Belsas. “Any losses at all are too many. I do, however, need to know the status of my own forces.”

  “Neither of them were Taelach vessels.” Ockson reviewed the crew manifests of the fallen ships. “But there were two Taelach officers serving on one and a Kimshee in transport on the other.”

  “Master Ockson, I think I’ve found something.” Malley pushed away from the table. Ockson read her findings and clasped Malley’s back in congratulations. “Excellent work. Why don’t you transfer this to the wall viewer and share your discovery.”

  Malley activated the wall screen behind the worktable and stood to one side. “At any time there are twenty thousand or more planetary launches in use.” Everyone nodded at what was common knowledge. “That would typically make tracing one almost impossible.”

  “Get on with it, Third Officer,” said Krell. “Time is wasting.”

  “However,” Malley’s voice rose against the disruption, “all nonmilitary traffic was suspended yesterday. That left only twenty-one launch flights on record. Only four of those are currently en route.” Malley tapped the wall controls, bringing up a large diagram of the Sarian system. Five distinct dots appeared on the dis-play—four blue, the other a fiery orange. Malley indicated the four blue ones. “These are the authorized launch flights, and this”— Malley pointed directly to the swift moving orange marker—“is a rogue.”

  “It’s moving too quickly to be a planetary launch,” observed Chandrey.

  “Not if it’s been fitted with hyperburners,” countered Firman. “Is it a full launch or personal two-passenger?”

  “Two-seater by my estimate,” Malley replied.

  “Then it’s not what we’re looking for.” Belsas slapped the table in frustration. “Damn!”

  “Hold on.” Firman leaned to his sibling. “Think Cance might’ve outfitted it like the old land launch we tinkered with when we were kids?”

  “It’s possible,” said Krell. “Very possible. Where is the craft headed, Whellen?”

  “At present course, it will reach the Blackmore’s pre-retreat coordinates in three hours.”

  “Point of origin?”

  “The tracking beacon has been deactivated, but its flight path suggests Langus.”

  All eyes were on Krell and Firman. “What are you two brewing?” Chandrey prayed she was reading their expressions correctly.

  “We once had an old two-passenger land launch,” explained Firman. “We rebuilt it when we were youths, ripped out the cargo area behind the standard seats and installed additional seating. Why couldn’t Cance have done the same to a planetary launch? It’s faster than a standard four-seater, especially if you add boosters.”

  Belsas clenched her fists by her side as she rose. “Ockson,” she said officiously, “have your crew set an intercept course. We’ve found LaRenna.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  The Mother Maker has her own way of righting any wrong.

  —Taelach reasoning

  “Watch it!” Cance centered more firmly in her seat. The screen before her was smeared with blood, the impact point between her shoulder and the front console when the launch had lurched forward.

  “You want I should hit the next one?” Trazar dragged his tunic cuff across the smear so he could read the launch’s status. “I’d be more than happy to oblige. Your body would add to the rubble.”

  “Watch your mouth, sentry, or I’ll pop your sister’s lip for your insolence.”

  Trazar leaned back in his seat and gripped the flight stick a little tighter. The coordinates Cance had required him to program into the flight program were coming up, so he concentrated on the heading, jerking the craft as another slab of floating debris crossed their path.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” Cance pulled from the side bulkhead. “I thought you were pilot qualified.”

  “I am!” bellowed Trazar, struggling to maintain control of the craft. “We’ve come across some kind of wreckage.”

  Talmshone, taut muscles braced against the rocking, peered out the side viewport. His breath fogged the window. “Battle remains,” he sighed. “Iralian vessels. Are we near the proper coordinates?”

  “All but.” Trazar glanced at the console screen. Saria Four cast an impressive blue and green reflection off the launch’s transparent metallic windows. It had none of the gray pollution bands of the Autlach home world, save for the smudge surrounding the port city of Polmel.

  “Where’s the ship, Talmshone?” Cance flicked her dagger from palm to palm. “Where’s the Blackmore?” She turned full around, looking expectantly at the Iralian as she pointed the blade like a finger.

  “O
bviously delayed,” he answered in the most unfazed of voices. Suddenly, the launch gave a violent heave that cracked Cance’s chin on the seat back. LaRenna winced as her own jaw bounced hard against her chest.

  “Dammit!” Cance slid back around to cuff Trazar’s upper arm. “Keep this thing under control. That’s not a request.”

  “Then buckle in!” Trazar ducked a second blow meant for his face. “I’m not responsible for the ride being rough!”

  “Dodge me, will you? I warned you about having a smart mouth.” Cance gave LaRenna’s bobbed hair a cruel yank. LaRenna squealed then caught the side of Cance’s hand and bit down.

  “OW!” Cance jerked back to examine the line of cuts. “So you want to bite, little girl?” Her expression was half-amused, half-wanton. “I’ll teach you all about it as soon as we dock. I promise to make it a lesson you’ll never, ever forget.” She sucked at the wound and sat back, incensed as she watched Saria Four spin. “Ungrateful whore. I should have let Brandoff screw you to death. You’ll learn soon enough, or die in ignorance.”

  Trazar stifled a cheer for his sister’s diligence as he slowed the launch. “We’re at the coordinates.”

  “They’re not here!” Cance’s smile reversed to a livid scowl directed at Talmshone. “Where the fuck are they?”

  “How should I know?” Talmshone was beginning to lose the ominous calm he normally maintained. “I have been out of contact with the Commitment for over a Sarian cycle. Steady communications would have been impractical.”

  Trazar cringed as he eyed the lowering charge indicators. If he alone had been captive, he would have said nothing and simply let the launch and his problems burn in Saria Four’s atmosphere. But he wasn’t, and if LaRenna could fight he would do the same. “We don’t have the fuel to stay here long. What do you want me to do?”

  “Take orbit.” Cance clicked her tongue. “Now the damned fuel’s low. Nothing seems to be going as you assured me it would. You didn’t double-cross me, did you, lizard man?”