Jeanne G'Fellers - No Sister of Mine

by Jeanne G'Fellers

  “Lizard man?” Talmshone blinked at his accomplice through angry red eyes. “May I remind you that we are in the same proverbial boat.”

  “Then we wait.” Cance leaned forward to check the launch’s main data banks. Tapped into Taelach military channels, they were an excellent means of information provided one knew the correct access codes. The lower-level codes were often changed but were easily circumvented, a skill Cance had learned from Brandoff. “Your boys aren’t faring well at all, Talmshone. In fact, they’re taking quite a thrashing. Give me the Blackmore’s frequency so I can check its position.”

  “Iralian transmissions are encrypted and shielded.” He surveyed the wreckage for identifying markings. “You can neither read or track them.”

  “Yeah, right.” But Cance was at a loss for what to do without further codes. “What’s the Kinship’s high-security call sign for the Blackmore, girl?”

  “I don’t know,” whispered LaRenna. Even the quietest of conversations blasted inside her head.

  “Sure you do.” Cance pressed her dagger to LaRenna’s throat. “The Blackmore is head of the Commitment’s Eyonnic fleet, has been since I served. An active Kimshee knows the codes. Think hard.”

  “No.”

  “Tch, tch. Such disrespect so close to ignominious defeat. I suggest you give Cance what she requires.” Talmshone cast LaRenna an intolerant smile. “Her fuse is burning sparse and so is mine.” He pressed his rough-scaled face against the side of hers, the skin cool in comparison to his pungent breath. “I do admire your bravery, LaRenna. Iralian justice would reward your courageous behavior with painless death followed by the grandest of banquets in your honor. But regrettably, we are not in Iralian space and I have not indulged in fresh meat for an extended period.” The Iralian spread his gargantuan hand across her knees, flexing his fingers a minimal amount to demonstrate their sheer power, digging his talons into her flesh to prove his point. “You are still quite young and tender, my dear, and so very tempting to my hungry midsection that I will happily make a meal of you if you do not concede.”

  “Give them what they want, LaRenna.” Trazar glanced over his shoulder long enough to see fear leaching through the stubbornness in his sister’s pale eyes. As brave as she might be, she must comply. “He’ll hurt you in ways Cance never could.”

  “4 breakbar 72 matka 1l2 call over kol 6.”

  “Got it.” Cance entered the codes with a light skim of the symbol board. “Now we know how to get information from her.”

  “Indeed we do.” The Iralian removed his hand, but continued to hold his face tightly against hers. “I will not repeat my demonstration a second time.” LaRenna stared straight ahead, breathing heavily. “There is nothing left for me to lose and a full stomach to gain. Do you comprehend what I am saying, young female?”

  “Yes.” Sweat dripped from LaRenna’s temples, stinging the scrapes in her eyes. She was afraid of him in an infinitely different way from Cance and rightly so. Iralians were known for consuming their prisoners piece by piece while keeping them barely alive. An honorary banquet was just that, with the dead the centerpiece and main course.

  “Excellent.” Talmshone lounged back and picked at his yellowed teeth with a talon. “There is a time to be noble,” he observed, “and a time to think of survival. The difficulty is deciding which applies to the situation at hand. I believe you made the wise choice, young LaRenna. My stomach growls with disappointment, but my mind approves.”

  As Talmshone spoke, the launch’s database finally produced the information Cance requested. She read it repeatedly, smacking at the screen a little harder with each run through. “No, no, dammit. No! NO!”

  “Is there a problem, dearest Cance?” Talmshone sounded particularly smug with himself.

  “Damn right there is, you double-dealing water serpent.” Cance aimed her bow at him. “The Blackmore has retreated behind the truce line. I’m stranded!”

  “I believe that should be plural, Taelach.” Talmshone’s eyes whirled with anger so red they flared purple. He blinked once, then again, then pointed toward the humming bow. “You can fire on me if you see fit.” He shrugged indifferently. “But, consider this before you do. You miss, you will blow a hole in the launch and we all suffer. Hit your mark, and I will most assuredly rip your arm off before you can trigger a second.” Taelach stared at Iralian, each anticipating the other’s next action.

  Cance’s prock levels had receded to the extent that she shook. “Or, I could do you like I did Starnes.”

  “You try and I will once again remove part of your anatomy, most likely your head.” They stared at each other for several more tense moments, Cance’s tongue giving periodic clicks of aggravation.

  LaRenna opened a weak link to her brother, sending a tickle down his spine. Maybe they’ll kill each other.

  Wouldn’t that be poetic justice? Trazar picked up on the mental touch and embraced it, hoping LaRenna could hear his thoughts. Keep still no matter what happens.

  I hear you, she replied. Where am I going to go? I’m trussed up like a roast for the spit.

  That’s what we’ll both be if Talmshone gets hungry enough.

  Not funny, Trazar.

  It wasn’t meant to be. Now rest your head. This must take incredible effort.

  You have latent empathic abilities I can tap into, so it’s not too difficult. But Trazar pushed for honesty. Okay, okay. My head is splitting.

  I should say it is.

  Was that a joke?

  Yeah, a really bad one. You have a prock hangover. I’ve seen it in sentries returning from post on Trimar. They have to try it just once before they go. Idiots. They had a choice. Close the link, little sister, and save your strength. As their mental tie broke, a low chuckle began to rise from Cance. She lowered her bow and broke out in a hysterical laugh that prompted an even more aggressive stare from Talmshone.

  “Would you look at us?” she cackled. “We’re at each other’s throats when the answer is right here with us.” She crawled halfway across the seat, grabbed LaRenna’s face, forcing a full, passionate kiss into her mouth. “I would have enjoyed a small bite with that, lover.” Cance’s mouth curved in perverse teasing. “Talmshone, we forgot our backup.”

  “You intend to part with your woman?” Talmshone inquired as he watched Cance draw a generous recharge from her inhaler.

  “They’ll think I am.” Cance nodded toward Trazar between puffs. “But that won’t be what they get.”

  Talmshone’s leer turned gruesome. “Apologies regarding my earlier indiscretions. It appears you do indeed have matters well in hand.”

  “Always did.” Cance pushed a momentary phase into LaRenna. You’re mine, LaRenna, from now until forever. Accept the love I give. I’m your sole protector from the universe. I’m the only one who cares. Cance sighed with the phase’s release and held the inhaler to LaRenna’s face. “Want a hit to celebrate, my sweet? No? Well, we’ll just save it for your next lesson.” Victory permeated her drawl. “Sentry, open communications with Saria Four. We have a deal to make.”

  The Predator was a mere hour away when the transmission arrived. Belsas and Chandrey were already on the battle deck waiting when Krell and Firman stormed in. “Anything yet?” asked Krell.

  “No. Communications is stalling until we can pinpoint their exact location.” Belsas waved them to empty seats adjacent the viewer. “It shouldn’t be long.”

  The lift hatch opened again and Ockson, Malley in tow, rushed onto the deck. “Whellen,” huffed the master Engineer, skidding into a chair, “cut on the viewer and inform the main that we’re ready.”

  Chandrey grasped Belsas’s hand. “Don’t worry, pet.” Belsas smiled tenderly at her. “Cance can’t harm you from this distance.”

  “Yes she can.” Chandrey’s voice trembled. “She has LaRenna.”

  “A temporary condition I plan on remedying.” They settled into their respective seats but remained closely linked under the table, Chandrey’s slen
der fingers disappearing in Belsas’s supporting grip.

  Ockson tapped the table. “We’re ready.”

  All eyes focused on the wall screen as Cance Creiloff’s belligerent sneer came into focus. Two long scratches jagged across her face and her bottom lip was swollen. “Hello, Belsas.” Her voice fairly oozed hollow sweetness. Chandrey shuddered and jumped at the sound, finding herself more shaken than she had anticipated. “Good to see you, too, Chandrey.” Cance laughed. “How are you, darling? You look well. Miss me?”

  “No games.” Belsas drew forward, partially shielding Chandrey from view. “What are your terms?”

  “Not so fast, old girl. I have a question for you first.” Cance sighed at the sight of Chandrey’s flowing hair. The desire was still there, as sickeningly overpowering as the need for control that accompanied it. “Some things never change, do they, Chandrey my love? The mere sight of you still drives me wild.” Cance held up her hand as if to stop the flood of emotions unleashed by the sight of LaRenna’s gentler raiser. “No, no, there’s no time to express what I’ve been holding back all these passes. Maybe later. Preferably face to face. Right now, I have business to discuss with your sorry bitch of a guardian. So, Belsas, history comes to haunt the historian. How does it feel to be on the receiving end for a change?”

  “I’m not playing your games this time, Cance.” Belsas could feel Chandrey’s grasp increasing, slick with sweat, underneath the table. “Bring her back.”

  “Bring who back?” Cance winked at Chandrey.

  “You know who. What’s your price?”

  “Wellll . . .” Cance dragged the word to its fullest. “How about safe passage for three out of Sarian space?”

  “You’re charged with mass murder,” replied Belsas. “I can’t grant passage with that on your head and you know it.”

  “Belsas.” Bitterness replaced Cance’s sugary tone. “They were only Auts. I was doing the Kinship a favor. The least you can do is promise passage.”

  “No, I can’t.”

  Cance’s mouth began to twitch. “You can do anything you damn well please, you puckered excuse for a Taelach. Now give me what I need and I’ll consider your request.”

  “I’ll give you passage back to Trimar until you stand judgment. The Iralian comes straight into custody. Brandoff is dead, so I know nothing of your third member. Tell me who it is and I may grant them passage to Trimar.”

  Cance avoided the last remark. “What Iralian?”

  “We found a single four-toe track at the Waterlead.” Krell joined the conversation.

  “Who’s your overgrown lackey, Belsas?”

  “One of my assistants. Listen, Cance, I—”

  “I . . . don’t . . . think . . . so.” The words inched out in slow, stabbing pulses, Cance’s smile broadening with each syllable. “You’re Krell, aren’t you? You’re the one she cries for every time I do her. I’ve heard your name so many times it disgusts me. Brandoff gave her a beating over it and she still wouldn’t shut up. You better talk some sense into that high and mighty leader of yours, otherwise, you’ll never see your fresh-tasting little girl again. I demand safe passage for myself and two others through all Sarian space. No deals. No exceptions.”

  “You’ve already stated your—”

  Cance cut Krell short. “Don’t interrupt me, Kimshee. I wasn’t finished. These are the only terms I will accept. In return, I’ll give back what’s left of your woman.”

  “Cance Creiloff,” bellowed Belsas, “if you’ve done as much as touched one hair on her head, so help me I’ll—”

  “You’ll what?” Cance was openly amused by the threat. “I have her. She’s mine to do with as I please. Not only have I touched every hair on her entire body, I’ve kissed, fondled, and made sweet, sweet, delicious love to them. She’s perfect, just like Chandrey. She still has a thing or two to learn about ownership, but she’s a smart girl and I’m a willing teacher. Why, I’ve even gone as far as to blood-mark her. What are you going to do about it, Belsas, blow me from the sky? I have your precious daughter with me. Go ahead, I dare you!”

  “All your talk means nothing if she’s dead,” said Krell after a moment’s silence. “Let us see her.”

  “Take my word for it. I don’t have to prove a damn thing, you Kimshee slut.”

  “Then we must presume she’s dead.” Krell’s heart broke at the prospect. “No deals.”

  “You’re letting a mere first Kimshee do your negotiating, Belsas?” Cance laughed haughtily. “You must be getting feebleminded in your old age. Chandrey, how could you choose such a rusted-up creature over me? I’ve aged decidedly better than that and so have you.”

  “You’ve aged like the sorry addict you’ve become.” Chandrey spoke with a strength she never knew she possessed. “What Krell says stands. Show us LaRenna. Let us talk to her or I’ll personally issue the order to destroy you.”

  “My, my, my, but haven’t we gotten feisty over time. Belsas must not beat you enough. Now I know where LaRenna gets the idea she’s equal to a guardian. I slapped it out of you and I’ll slap it out of her.” This unfamiliar side of Chandrey disturbed Cance, rattling her intentions until she briefly yielded. “I must be getting sentimental. All right, Chandresslandra, you want her, you got her.” Cance adjusted the launch’s recorder lens to view the rear seating. Talmshone, his talons at Trazar’s throat to ensure silence, leaned against the far bulkhead, clear of the recorder’s range. Just because they knew of his presence did not mean he wanted to make an appearance. Cance kissed LaRenna then moved back, one hand on LaRenna’s head to remind all watching just who maintained dominance. “Say hello to the folks at home, lover. Tell them what a wonderful time we’re having.”

  LaRenna pulled her head to her chest so her hair concealed the marks on her face. She couldn’t bear the thought of anyone she loved seeing her in this condition.

  “LaRenna, look up.” Krell’s voice was a ray of light in the dark depths of her fragile soul. She glanced up briefly, then looked away, hopelessly embarrassed. “LaRenna?” Krell’s voice sent another wave flowing into LaRenna’s heart. She raised her head a little more, trying to focus on the launch’s small viewer.

  “Krell?”

  “Yes, LaRenna, it’s me. Are you okay?”

  “I’m tired.” Her response was truly that.

  “I know you are. Be brave. You’ll be home soon.”

  “Home?” The concept sounded foreign. LaRenna pulled her head up fully, straining to see the image that accompanied the caring voice. She had to see Krell.

  “Precious Renna.” Krell’s pain had been more than illusion. “Be strong. We’ll get you home soon.”

  Cance jerked the lens forward. “You’ve seen her, now do we have a deal or—” The screen died into a spotty feed of static.

  “Get them back!” screamed Belsas.

  Ockson pecked feverishly at the terminal. “It’s not on our end. They must be having power difficulties.”

  As quickly as it went blank, the screen burst back to life. The transmission was hazy, but Cance’s frenzy was crystal clear. “Belsas Exzal, you fucker! You tracked us by our sig . . . we’re going down! You’ll never see her . . . if she survives this, I swear I’ll . . . before you can reach her!” The reception dimmed and crackled as the launch’s power supply diverted to emergency systems.

  “What’s happening?” Krell couldn’t breathe. LaRenna was everywhere in her mind.

  KKKRRREELLL!

  Ockson pounded away at her board, desperate to gather as much information as possible before the launch dropped from orbit. “The Iralians left a tracer charge. It homed in on the launch’s transmission signal. They had no intention of retrieving their spy.”

  Krell cried out as the pleading cry grew louder, shrieking against the mental blast echoing in her skull. KRRREEELLLLL!

  “LARENNA! NO!” she cried.

  “My baby!” Chandrey fell forward across the table, arms outstretched to catch her falling child. “LaR
enna!”

  Cance’s obscene ranting was reduced to a single string of erratic syllables that were barely decipherable among the frantic cries on the Predator. “You— Crash— Help— Die—” Then, it stopped, Krell’s mental tirade halting abruptly as well.

  “LaRenna, no darlin’, no.”

  “Krell, I’m sorry.” Firman grabbed her arm to stop her fall.

  She pushed him away. “No. This is all wrong. I just found her again. I just told her. No!”

  “Krell—” She knocked his compassionate hand away.

  “No!”

  “Krell?”

  “She’s not dead.” She had managed to regain control. “I feel her. I hear her heartbeat.”

  “Oh, Krelleesha,” he sighed. The denial was familiar. Their father had experienced much the same reaction when their mother passed away. Krell didn’t remember, but he did. The death hadn’t sunk into him for several cycles, leaving the family’s well-being solely in a young Firman’s lap until their father had regained his faculties.

  There were no tears in Belsas’s battle-hardened eyes. “Whellen, you were LaRenna’s friend. Please contact my compound on Saria Three and notify them of our loss.”

  “Yes, Grandmaster.” Malley, preferring to grieve in silence, slowly withdrew from the room.

  Belsas’s hands were icy on Chandrey’s slumped shoulders. “Ockson, have your crew prepare a recovery detail. I’ll assist. We must bring my daughter home to rest.”

  “It’s the least I could do, Belsas.” Ockson silently followed Malley out the lift doors.

  Last, Belsas addressed Krell in a no less officious tone. “You’re needed on the recovery detail as well. LaRenna was your intended. You must travel to Saria Three with the body so you can witness the death rites.”

  “I’ll go to the surface,” she replied. “But it won’t be to recover a corpse.” Krell peered at Saria Four. It wasn’t such a big place, most of the landmass on the Reisfall continent, the remainder scattered on dozens of small islands. LaRenna was on the continent, Krell was certain, unconscious but breathing, dreaming of nothing but Krell’s impending rescue. The dream link would help, be a beacon for Krell to follow. And Krell had to follow, for where LaRenna was so was Krell, bound by desire and heart, dependence of mind and body. She shoved off Firman’s helping hands, and rose to stand before Belsas, her face hardened with resolve. “No, there will be no funeral fires, no memorial, no ashes scattered. LaRenna is alive and I have every intention of finding her.”