“Colonel?” said Millen’s disembodied voice over the communicator clutched in Falmah-Al’s white-knuckled hand. “Strike activity. Deputy personnel. All cleared.”
Falmah-Al muttered something in her language which Ellisne did not understand. “Stand by, Millen.” The colonel’s dark, definitely hostile eyes lifted to meet Ellisne’s. “Nothing. They’ve had ample time to steal a craft if they were going to. Are you sure you heard them correctly?”
Ellisne met her gaze directly, betraying nothing. “It was the plan they discussed, Colonel. I am not responsible if they fail to carry it out.”
The colonel’s brows flashed together. “Be careful, Sedkethran. I am growing tired of your games.”
“But I—”
“You have delivered none of your promises! You said you would take the goda locations from him, but instead you helped him to escape. And now you are trying to be clever again.” Falmah-Al drew her weapon and aimed it at Ellisne. “Do you expect me to trust you, ghost?”
“You did not hold your end of our bargain. You were torturing him,” said Ellisne, trying not to stare at the disruptor. Her heartbeat quickened. “I could not permit that.”
“If you had returned to us with the goda locations I might believe you,” said Falmah-Al. “As it is, move! We’re going to check on the dock surveillance.”
Ellisne obeyed, going down the steep metal steps from the observation deck ahead of Falmah-Al. Colonid troopers were everywhere, helmet screens snapped up to reveal watchful eyes and suspicious faces. She knew they were covering the shuttlecraft in Impryn as well as the landing pods here and the loading docks for the larger ships. Brock had no chance to get through, providing he had even tried.
Had the transender killed him by now? she wondered. But surely she would have felt something. She had attuned a portion of her thoughts to his pattern, ready to recognize it should he succeed in reaching the spaceport.
There was plenty of activity in the branching corridors, although over half of the spaceport had been closed down. But supply freighters, fully automated and sent out on regular schedules before the final battles, were still coming in. They had to be docked and unloaded, and the cargoes had to be sorted and sent planetside to waiting distributors. Passengers, stranded when their liners were confiscated, waited at terminal gates in dejected little groups, their finery bedraggled now, duffels heaped at their feet, fingering their identification disks as they slowly moved through processing. Ellisne, pausing beside the colonel as their guard escort impatiently cleared a path through a jam of people at an intersection where a processing counter had been set up, noticed that newans had been separated from those of other species. Their processing was going much quicker. She frowned, disturbed by fresh evidence of the Imish inability to deal easily with alien life forms.
“Where are you sending them?” she asked.
Falmah-Al glared at her. “Come along. It doesn’t concern you.”
Ellisne had no choice but to follow, centered in the phalanx of guards. The looks directed at her were hostile.
“Sedkethran traitor!” shouted a voice. “How much did you pay to buy your freedom?”
Falmah-Al didn’t even pause. She flicked a finger, and one of the guards moved swiftly into the crowd to isolate the speaker and strike him down with a savage blow.
“No!” said Ellisne in dismay. “You mustn’t—”
But one of the guards prodded her around the bend in the corridor away from the angry voices and cries of pain.
“That was not necessary!” said Ellisne. “I refuse to be the cause of violence—”
“It wasn’t done on your account,” said Falmah-Al. “The Held has been placed under Imish martial law. Displaced civilians have been ordered to stand quietly in silence. That rule is strictly enforced.”
Ellisne might have protested further, but at that moment they had to step aside to the right wall of the corridor to make room for a line of bulky containers hitched together on anti-grav dollies. A slender, long-armed Slathese in silver work coveralls was in charge. He carried a simple propulsion control unit and was slowly steering the cargo along.
Seeing him, Ellisne involuntarily gasped. He was keeping his eyes strictly on his work, trying to arouse no suspicion. Ellisne glanced away from his face and stared at the containers, her mind reaching out to each one. Where was the promadi? One of the containers held organic mass on a low order, but she picked up no mental patterns.
“What is it?” asked Falmah-Al, startling her. “What has caught your attention? Major By-Rami, scan these containers!”
Rho’s eyes flashed a single accusing look at Ellisne as the guard checked the identification tag fastened to the front of his coveralls.
“This worker has been processed, Colonel, although I’m not sure about his code prefix in this area.”
“What species?” asked the colonel.
Ellisne could sense the anger boiling out from Rho at her. Plainly he thought she had betrayed him. But she had not mentioned to Falmah-Al that Brock had assistance.
“Slathese,” she answered quietly, knowing that if Brock was not here he must have surely died in the transender beam. She had not felt the loss, but that was no certain indicator. The promadi had lived cut off from his own kind for many years. In death why should he have reached out to her? Shame and an unexpected wave of regret touched her. She felt responsible, as though she had failed him. “From the planet Slath. They—”
“Never heard of it,” said Falmah-Al contemptuously. Her eyes raked Rho up and down. “You,” she said in a passable Held dialect. “Where are you taking those?”
“Dock 7-A,” he answered sullenly, keeping his eyes down. Ellisne saw his fingerpads twitch, extending clawtips slightly. Don’t be foolish, she told him, but his mental shields were up against her.
“That’s an outward-bound dock,” said By-Rami with a frown. He lifted a thumb to wipe away a trickle of perspiration from his forehead. The helmets looked hot, and the air in the spaceport was inadequately circulated. “We aren’t shipping anything out.”
“Merc sic,” said Rho in exasperation, twitching one tall pointed ear. “Campesians always sending wrong shipments and crossing invoice destinations. These fittings belong to the new construction sites in the Damaug system. We can’t have them taking up space in off-loading. My boss say take them to Dock 7 so they are out of the way.”
“What’s in them?” asked By-Rami.
“Pod fittings and fluid pacs. Ordinary construction materials,” said Rho sharply as another guard stepped forward with a scanner. “No illicit substances!”
They scanned each container, but the guard shook his head. “Nothing clear on these readings. What’s in this one?”
“Fluid pacs. Sic!” Rho fanned a hand in front of his face. “You wish to be opened? Not pleasant.”
“Organic contents, Colonel.”
Falmah-Al gestured impatiently. “We don’t have all day.”
Rho hissed to himself and snapped open the locks. He barely opened the lid when a noxious odor flooded out. By-Rami backed up hastily.
“Gazal-ma!” he said, then shot Falmah-Al a nervous glance and held back the rest of what he’d been about to say. “All clear, Colonel.”
Rho slammed shut the lid as they waved him on. His eyes flickered once to Ellisne, then he switched on the propulsion unit and headed on up the corridor ahead of them.
Go safely, she thought sadly. She hoped he did succeed in escaping. The Slathese were gentle people who kept to themselves and caused no one any trouble. Rho’s cause was over. She would hate to see him end up in an Imish labor camp. Now that the promadi was dead, there was her own survival to be considered. Escaping from the colonel would not be too difficult although her craft and pilot had been impounded. Could she steal another ship? She did not know how to operate one, so to engage in a criminal activity would not help her. Perhaps she could seek Rho’s assistance.
Falmah-Al’s communicator beeped for att
ention. She frowned and plugged a small module in her ear for private transmission, then glanced at By-Rami.
“I have to return to Impryn. Tell Millen to maintain alert status. As for you, Sedkethran—”
“Permit me to wait at the transender terminals,” said Ellisne quickly. “He would be most foolish to try such a thing, but just in case—”
“Gazal! I’ll deal with you later,” said Falmah-Al impatiently. “You have been useless to us. The rest of you, with me.”
She strode away, gesturing vehemently to By-Rami at her side. Ellisne stood there a moment, watching them leave her. They thought she was still their prisoner. After all, with all coming and going so carefully monitored, how could anyone leave the spaceport without authorization? Ellisne could not flick to the planet surface, but even if she managed it she would still be in Imish-controlled territory.
Rho was her only chance to get away. She now wanted only to return to Felca, to seek the peace of her work, to forget the disturbing challenges Brock had presented. She was not accustomed to failure, yet was it failure? Her home was no longer threatened by the promadi’s madness. The magstrusi would be pleased. Yet, as a healer she considered death a failure. And now that he was dead, she dared admit to herself that she had had other feelings for him, feelings of attraction that were Forbidden for one of her training. She would have to overcome such disturbing emotions during the journey home.
But first, she must convince Rho to trust her.
She waited until the colonel and her men were out of sight, then she gathered herself and flicked, arriving in the vast cavern of the docking area just as Rho unlocked one of the containers and helped the promadi climb out.
“No!” Astonishment caught her in the throat like a blow, and she spoke more loudly than she intended, making Rho’s head whip around. “No! It cannot be possible! I scanned those containers myself, and there was nothing—”
With a furious hiss, Rho sprang away from Brock and came at her with lightning speed, his wings outstretched and his claws extended.
“Th’t ak! You will not betray us again!”
Crying out, she dodged his grasp. But a leathery wingtip clipped her arm and sent her spinning. This time she had to flick to one side to elude him.
“I didn’t betray you!” she said desperately, looking at Brock who had sagged limply beside the container. “I kept them occupied with the shuttles to give you a chance to take the transender.”
“Yes,” said Rho, baring his poisonous fangs. “And now you appear to help us again, by leading them here.”
“No!” She stumbled and fell, flicking barely in time to Brock’s side. She reached for his arm and shook him, pouring her entreaty through that touch.
For a moment there was no response. She felt as though she were pouring herself into a void. Dead? But his eyes were open. His lungs and heart were working. Rho seized her, his claws slashing her arm as he jerked her away from Brock.
“Do you want Brock to die?” she asked, gasping from the pain. “Or do you want me to help him?”
Rho’s orange eyes returned to sanity, then he hissed and shook her violently. “You will help him die! You came here only for that purpose.”
“Untrue. I came here to stop him from activating the godas.”
“We are Held,” he spat. “Godas are only way to defeat Colonids.”
“Felca is Goda Prime!” she cried in despair of ever making him understand. “Don’t you see? How can I stand by while he destroys my home?”
“Felca?” Rho stared at her, visibly stunned. “Your planet? Your birthing place? The reservoir for your spawn? This is a goda?”
“Yes.” Her eyes implored his, willing him to understand. “How can we pay such a price, even to rid ourselves of these new masters? How can we?” She looked down at Brock, who had closed his eyes. He was pale, almost transparent, but his breathing was stronger. Was he listening? Could he possibly, finally understand? “It is Brock’s home too. He has forgotten—”
“Shstk,” commanded Rho, his head whipping around. He listened for a moment, then said, “There is no time for this. If he needs you to live, then you will come. But if you do one more wrong, I shall be quick to the throat. Help me get him into this ship.”
Together they maneuvered Brock to his feet. His features were slack, and although he opened his eyes when Ellisne supported his weight alone, freeing Rho to unlock the ship’s hatch, Brock stared through her without recognition. She lifted a hand to the nerve points on either side of his throat, concentrating on penetrating the shock clouding him. No wonder her scan earlier had not picked up any mental pattern; she could not detect any now. She frowned and dropped her hand in alarm. Had the transender permanently erased his mind? It had managed to reassemble his molecular structure correctly, but…
“Now,” said Rho, pulling down the hatch.
It was a small ship, adapted for dry internal dock unlike its larger sisters which could only be accessed by airlock in the vast space hangars. This little craft had probably been pulled inside for storage.
They carried Brock up the steep ramp into the belly hold of the ship and left him slumped in a corner while Rho slapped the hatch closure controls and climbed up a ladder well into the main part of the ship. Ellisne followed him, watching as he lifted himself into a seat fashioned to fit far different contours and belted himself in. He sat, fierce with concentration, and stared at the complicated array of controls before him. She looked at them too, aware of her severe limitations in this area. She knew only of life and the patterns that sustained it. Mechanical devices and the mathematics required to operate them were beyond her knowledge.
‘‘Can one person navigate this?” she asked.
He whistled without glancing at her. ‘‘It was chosen as best for that purpose.” As he spoke he pressed a fingerpad to a switch. She heard a responding whine below her feet.
“Won’t there be someone monitoring—”
“Yes, yes! Systems control will catch us the moment we request open doors.” Other lights were blinking on around her as power levels warmed and instrumentation panels came on-line. “We must be clever.” He flashed her a threatening look. “And you must try no more tricks.”
“I told you—”
“Go below and stay with the dire-lord. I will think of a way to ease us out of here when traffic is heavy. Perhaps we can tandem a freighter. I think we are small enough to fit along the superstructure.”
She did not understand what he was talking about, but she did not intend to argue. Climbing back down the ladder into the hold, she paused a moment as the lights went out. But almost at once they came back on. The whine of the engines was stronger here. As soon as she knelt beside Brock, his eyes opened and his hand flashed out to grab her wrist.
The touch was like an electrical shock. His mind leapt at hers, insistent, hungry, desperate. He drew energy and strength from her, taking more and more until she gasped dizzily and managed to break free.
“Come here.” His voice, deep and raw, rang with Influence. His eyes were huge in his pale face. They compelled her so that she found herself swaying in his direction.
She barely held herself away from him. “Stop it!” She lifted shaking hands. “Stop!”
“Help me.”
Again she had to fight herself to keep from obeying. Frightened, she did not dare meet his gaze again. “I will help,” she said unsteadily. “But it must be what I give, not what you take.”
“Of—of course.”
To her relief the Influence faded from his voice. He slumped back against the bulkhead and let his head roll to one side. She had to fight her own fear to reach out to him, but he gestured to stop her before she was able to grasp his hand.
“I am better,” he said. “Not just yet. Not until you are ready.”
She drew in a deep breath and nodded, composing herself by slow degrees. Now that her emotions were compressed once again beneath the Disciplines, she realized that there was a change in
him. His guard seemed to be down. His inner shields were weak. At this moment he was not holding her at the distance he had before. She felt herself on the verge of an Understanding. But it eluded her grasp.
“You are stronger than a magstrus,” she found herself saying. “It would take the whole council to crush me, but you could do it alone. You made me afraid.”
To her surprise, he gave her the formal gesture of apology. It was the first time she had seen him conform to any of the rituals of their culture.
“Shock perhaps,” she said when she could find her voice again. “You did really dare try the transender. You are reckless beyond comprehension. The expectation that a damaged atrox would change your essential molecular structure was worse than illogical. It was stupid. I am at a loss to understand your survival.”
“It was a surprise to me as well,” he said, then abruptly leaned forward with an eager flash of his eyes. “Ellisne, just think of it! I have discovered more abilities. Just as I was able to flick from the ship down to the planet with the suprin when the need arose, so was I able to hold myself sufficiently stable for the transender to reassemble me. Mental power, Ellisne,” he said, his whole face lighting with a degree of enthusiasm that was not proper. “Incredible mental power that seems to grow each time it is drawn upon. What is it? What source? Why can it be tapped only during the severe stress of survival attempts?”
She drew back, stunned by the implications of what he was saying. Her eyes, wide and disbelieving, moved from his face to his long, well-shaped hand which was unconsciously twisting the goda band around and around his wrist. Then anger at his presumption spread through her, and for the first time she longed for the ability to command a whip of the magstrusi.
“Silence!” she said sharply. “How can you dare to utter such questions?”
The eager smile faded from his face. “How can you dare to close off knowledge?”
“You are seduced by the corruption within your mind. You deliberately throw yourself into danger in order to increase these abilities—”
The Goda War Page 11