by L. E. Horn
So many died needlessly fighting this insane ground war. Tark’tosk paused near the doorway to the hall. It is about time we succeeded.
She still seethed about the escape of the human rebels and the captive Healers. The lowest Farr soldiers and a few of those higher up paid dearly for their failure.
Clicking her feeding teeth together in triumph, Tark’tosk strode out of the tech office and into her own.
Now to launch my final plan, she thought. Clever little humans. I should never have given you the power to inflict such damage. Let’s see if you can hold your pathetic rebellion together as we bring this planet down around you.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
THE SMALL GROUP OF HUMANS thundered into the valley on Gryphon so overheated the air around their spikes rippled in waves. Out on the grasslands Michael and Drake had met with a group coming from the rebel camp. As they arrived at the valley, Kesar galloped in. The Gryphon pranced and waved their tails in an attempt to cool off while the humans slid off their backs. Then the Gryphon jumped straight into the bathing pools, creating geysers of steam.
While the others headed for the Great Hall, Michael accompanied the Gryphon into a pool to rinse off the worst of the gore. The Gryphon’s steaming bodies warmed the water around him as he scrubbed away. Karn, Kesar, and Roz refreshed as quickly as possible before heading to the meeting.
As Michael followed them, he plucked at his torn clothing. He didn’t have time to change, so he left the tatters in place.
We’ve got more to worry about than stains and revealed skin, he thought, sluicing water off the rags with his hand.
Gone was the valley’s peaceful, easygoing atmosphere. Gryphon and miniGryphon moved with purposeful intent in and out of the Great Hall. Each pulse of the plasma cannon shook the earth beneath their feet like the beat of a giant subterranean heart.
When Michael entered the Great Hall, he noticed even more commotion. The rebels wove their way through the organized chaos.
The strategy room was crowded. Arriving last, Michael found it a challenge to place himself so he didn’t block anyone’s view. He ended up pressed against a wall right behind Lianndra and a steaming Kesar. The big old warrior crouched at the table, sitting on his tail with his legs bunched beneath him. It was hardly dignified but necessary. Karn managed to squeeze in behind Virra, but Roz didn’t fit. The giant Gryph settled for standing in the open doorway, his great height enabling him to see over the crowd.
Michael stood very close to Lianndra. Even over the spicy aroma of damp Gryphon, he could detect her distinct scent. He struggled to keep his focus on Virra, who stood at the head of the table, waiting for everyone to get settled. Try as he might, he couldn’t stop his eyes from roaming over Lianndra, imagining her without all the golden hair covering those curves. Focus, he thought. We have more important concerns. Like whether we will live to see another day.
EVERY PART OF LIANNDRA BECAME hyperaware of Michael’s presence. She could feel the heat of his gaze and it made her heart race. A wave of relief passed through her when Virra gestured for silence.
“The conflict with our enemy has taken a critical turn,” the miniGrypha began. “We have achieved much progress in ground battles, freeing many new rebels and pushing the remaining Tlok’mk units back into the jungle. Our strategists have considered the Tlok’mk weakened to the extent that an all-out pitched battle may finally end the war.” Virra snorted and flattened her ears. “Just when we thought victory on the ground was possible, the Tlok’mk have implemented a new strategy. The recent arrival of a fifth Mothership had us on high alert. It seems they have combined the energy resources of all five Motherships to feed an extremely powerful plasma cannon. It is new technology to us because we have never seen its like before. This cannon is attacking our planetary shield. The shield is holding for now, but our engineers state it cannot hold forever against such an onslaught.”
Virra shook her head, her white crest rising and falling with the movement. “Our experts did not foresee this development. Before we lost our surveillance satellite, it indicated the enormous power transferring from the Motherships to the cannon. So much power could pose a risk to the source ships themselves. In their bid to destroy our shield, the Tlok’mk have placed their Motherships in peril.”
It shocked Lianndra; the Motherships were the only homes remaining to the Fang. It’s unthinkable they’d risk them in such a fashion. Depleting the Motherships’ energy reserves could mean the deaths of thousands of Fang. They’re committed to an all-or-nothing strategy—either they win this war, or they die trying. I wonder what the Fang rebels are doing about this? If only the cannon would cause a surge and knock out those ships for us, our problems would be solved.
Virra obviously worried about the rebellion too. “We do not know the status of our Tlok’mk rebel friends. All communication from them has broken off. The Fang leaders have discovered the efforts of the rebel Healers, so it is possible the Tlok’mk rebels are now exposed. We must assume we are on our own.”
She pulled out her pointer and activated a holomap showing the Gryphon valleys. It was the first time Lianndra had seen them all on one map. She hadn’t known that from above, they created a semi-circle around a mountain range. The mountains of the Darkon. How long have the Gryphon been protecting them? For at least as long as they’ve inhabited those valleys.
“This is a desperate situation for us.” Virra fidgeted with her pointer. “The shield taps directly into our planetary core for its power, but there is a limit to how much we dare extract from it. If we destabilize the core, we risk the planet itself. But if the Tlok’mk are successful in destroying the shield, the plasma cannon will wreak havoc. This weapon has the potential to destroy Tarin’s ability to sustain life.”
Lianndra’s heart froze. How could species as advanced as the Fang do something like this? Enslaving another species is bad enough, but destroying the life on an entire planet?
A deep vibration ran through the soles of her feet as the planet resonated with each cannon blast. A deeper sound from behind made her stiffen. It’s Michael, she thought. He’s growling. My God, I can even smell his anger. Beside her, Kesar seemed to agree with the sentiment for he shifted, spikes bristling. Many other spikes stiffened as well, and several individuals were poked, which led to much rustling of feathers and positions.
Her white crest fully erect, Virra waited for the room to settle before continuing. “My people have put their faith in the planetary shield to protect us from others who wish us harm. It relies on a technology almost as ancient as our species. We have never been wealthy. We put what resources we possessed into building the shield and it has served us well for many years.” The miniGrypha’s crest sank. “We are a peaceful people, and perhaps we have been remiss in not putting more effort into protecting our planet.” She looked at the humans in the room, “We must stop the assault on our shield. Your species is famous for its ingenuity. We are going to require your insight if we are to survive this.” Man, if they’re counting on us, we’re all in trouble. Lianndra was speechless. How do you stop one Mothership, let alone five?
“We must use the Darkon.” The deep voice rumbled from behind her, and for a split second Lianndra didn’t recognize it. Even his voice is changing.
Michael continued. “They’re the only wild card left to us. The very thing the Fang risk everything to claim. We must use the Darkon’s power against the Fang.”
The room erupted with sound. Some expressed agreement, while others seemed horrified at the prospect. A few humans looked confused for not everyone knew about the Darkon.
Virra wisely let the arguments run their course before signaling for silence again. “We have a two-pronged problem. If we hold back our attacks on the ground forces, they will push forward and might penetrate our defenses to meet their goal. They only need to acquire a few Darkon. We therefore cannot reduce the ground war’s efforts.” A murmur of agreement passed through the room. “We must also address this
new threat. We have but a small fleet of space-going vessels that are minimally armed and cannot challenge even one Mothership.” Virra sighed. Her pale blue and white fur lay flat against her small frame. “For generations, we protected the secret of the Darkon just as we have protected the creatures themselves. If we use them to defend the planet, we will expose their secret to all.”
“Are you sure?” Lianndra broke in. “They can’t know Hannah and I have trained with the Darkon. Without the mental connection, the Darkon’s energy cannot be used as an effective weapon.”
“If the strike is decisive and quick, they might not even know what happened,” Michael said. “We know not all Fang—sorry, Tlok’mk—agree with this war. A direct strike against a Mothership isn’t morally acceptable even if it were possible. But if we could take out the plasma cannon, the Fang would lose the advantage. It could turn the tide of Fang sentiment against the war. One decisive blow could be all we need. They won’t know how we destroyed the cannon, only that we did.”
“How many Darkon would be required to take out the cannon?” Drake cut in. “Is it even possible?”
Lianndra noticed brows lowering and tails twitching. Kesar rumbled something in Gryphonese.
The old scout leader, Zar, nodded. “Cannon is key. Show of strength. May work.”
Virra continued the train of thought, relieving Zar from continuing in her labored English. “Any assault on the cannon must be secretive and swift. Even if we could use the Darkon against a Mothership, unless we take out all five at once, an attempt on one would be suicidal.”
“I doubt they have the power to take on a Mothership,” Lianndra said. “The cannon might be possible.” Quite the gamble, sending Gryphon ships against the Motherships and hoping to get to the cannon without being detected. “With the shield intact and the cannon destroyed, the Fang would be back to a costly ground war they’re currently losing.”
Michael glanced at Drake. “Our ground forces would finish them.”
“Presently, we do not know what defenses the cannon may have,” piped a calm voice Lianndra recognized. Wilf. Lianndra hadn’t even noticed him seated between Virra and Karn. The miniGryph’s disheveled mane bristled erect as he continued. “It may have its own shields that will stop us from getting near it.”
Drake and a few others nodded. Discussion went back and forth. The plan possessed obvious risks, but no alternative presented itself. The tide of opinion concluded with agreement.
Virra said, “Our first step is to assess what role the Darkon will have. I will consult with our experts, and we will work with our Healers to see what might be possible.” She banged the base of her pointer on the table. “We will reconvene as soon as I have answers. Until then, rest and eat. There will be little time for either soon enough.”
Lianndra did the most work with the Darkon, and she had a sinking feeling that Virra expected her to accompany the little creatures against the Motherships. Other Healers could be taught the skill, and some might have better battle sense than her. But if Michael is fighting on the ground, I want to go with him. Virra’s eyes met hers, and Lianndra wasn’t sure she would have any choice.
AS THE HUMANS AND GRYPHON squeezed out the narrow doorway, Virra gestured for Lianndra to hang back. Michael spotted the movement and slowed his progress toward the door. His keen ears heeded the soft conversation behind him.
“I want you to consider being on board our fleet when we go to destroy the plasma cannon,” the miniGrypha said.
“Another Healer might be a better choice,” Lianndra replied.
Virra paused as Michael lined up behind Zar. When the pale-blue miniGrypha spoke, her voice was even quieter.
“Our people have a word for someone like you.” She said something sounding much like the peal of distant trumpets. “The closest English translation is ‘catalyst.’ You are an individual around which destinies revolve.” She sighed. “In truth, it may not be as prophetic as it sounds, considering your work with the Darkon is vital to the mission. Many of my people believe you are the key to our success.”
Michael arrived at the door. He couldn’t stall longer without being obvious. His heart pounded so loudly he almost missed Lianndra’s reply.
She sounded resigned. “If you believe I can make a difference by being there, so be it.”
She’s challenging those Motherships with only the Darkon’s power to save her. What did you expect? Michael thought. It was your suggestion, and she’s done the most work with the creatures. As he passed through the door and into the Hall, his heart rate increased. It thumped in his chest and radiated into his head where it throbbed in time to thoughts gone chaotic. Exhausted after all he’d been through in the jungle, a wave of weakness passed through him. I’m too close to losing control. Gotta get away from here.
Blinded by the sudden pounding in his head, Michael pushed his way through the milling crowd. He must get past the press of bodies and reach the cool evening air. By the time he made it through the crowd, he was running. As he disappeared into the shadows, his body ramped up.
Six, he recognized in despair. He thought he heard Drake call his name but he couldn’t stop, not even for his friend.
Once in the trees, he altered course to head for the bathing pools. With everyone occupied by the extra preparations for war, they were empty. His thoughts lost coherence and his lips drew back into a snarl.
Seven.
He dove headfirst into the closest pool, fed by the cold waterfall overhead. The icy water shocked his body and gave him the focus he needed to regain some sanity.
He surfaced under the cascade. Panting with effort, Michael counted the drops dripping from the tangled hair over his eyes. When he reached one hundred and thirty-three, his lips slowly folded over his canines.
Six.
His temples stopped throbbing and his heart rate dropped.
Five.
He sighed in relief as he scaled down.
But it just keeps getting worse. Even the possibility of Lianndra being in danger triggered his rage. He didn’t know how much longer he could go on without becoming a danger to everyone around him.
He closed his eyes and sank chest-deep into the water, letting the cold penetrate his heated flesh.
“SO FAR, I HAVE WORKED with up to three Darkon simultaneously,” Lianndra said. She sat at the table with Virra, Hannah, and two other miniGryphon: Kika, a sturdy, pale-yellow and muted-black miniGrypha, and Harn, an older miniGryph with coloring similar to Wilf’s orange and blue tones. Both miniGryphon managed Darkon research and care.
“I could work with more than three,” Lianndra said, “but it seems physical contact is necessary to establish the telepathic link. All of them would have to all sit on me, but they would get too heavy to support. I have to be touching them to connect. “What progress have you made with focusing the beam?” Kika’s voice was deep but still feminine.
“Given everything I’ve been doing, I haven’t worked with them for a while.” Lianndra pushed on past the darkest of those recent memories. “I found it easy to coordinate the destruction beam with three, but we were still working on accuracy. They’re accurate within a few feet, but beyond ten feet the beam spreads out and becomes scattered. I must pull the power together mentally, and visualize focusing the beam to condense it and carry it over a distance.”
“If you had enough Darkon, would it be possible to project a strong enough beam to take out the plasma cannon?” Virra sounded impressed.
Lianndra nodded. “I think I could do it. I wouldn’t trust myself if there was the potential for collateral damage. If I’m focused on the cannon, everyone and everything else should duck.”
“How close to the cannon must you be to destroy it?” Harn asked.
The blonde Healer looked at him. “We’ve destroyed things at three hundred feet, but it wasn’t pretty. That’s as far as I have tested the three Darkon. Within two-fifty, I could definitely do damage.”
Three hundred feet would pu
t them close to the cannon—very close.
About three hundred feet too close. Lianndra sighed. “With more Darkon, I’ll have more power at my disposal. The beam will carry a greater distance if I can keep it focused. We should extend the range.”
“Can you train more Healers?” Virra asked.
“The technique isn’t complicated as long as the Healers can establish a connection to the Darkon in the first place,” Hannah replied. “I can focus the beam if I can keep my mind linked to the Darkon. Sometimes I lose the link and it breaks everything down.”
“I should be able to train another couple of Healers on short notice,” Lianndra said.
Hannah cleared her throat. “Do you think we should consider using the Darkon against the Fang ground forces?”
Virra fluffed up her crest. “Most of my people would object to using them in such a fashion. Destroying the cannon is one thing, but using the Darkon power to kill living things is quite another.”
Using them against the Fang had also been on Lianndra’s mind. It was not a simple question to answer.
“I think we have only begun to tap the creatures’ potential,” Lianndra said, “but the answer probably lies in the Healer’s ability to focus the power. Right now, I cannot keep the beam contained over a distance. Even a microsecond lapse on my part could mean a wide swath of destruction instead of a narrow one. With enough time I can master it, but I might run into physical limitations since I have experienced headaches and fatigue during the extended sessions. At the moment, I cannot guarantee accurate results. I think the collateral damage would be extensive and unpredictable.”
Virra sighed and nodded. “Very well. I thank you, considering these are not issues I would wish on anyone. Both of you should get some rest. I have things to discuss with Kesar and Wilf. We will reconvene in a couple of hours.”
The two Healers walked out together. As they stepped into the fresh night air, Lianndra glanced around for any sign of Michael. How am I going to say goodbye? Her heart ached. There’s a good chance neither of us is coming back from this one.