Jeanne G'Fellers - No Sister of Mine (23 page)

“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.”

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.

“Obviously 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?”

“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.