Jeanne G'Fellers - Sisters Flight (23 page)

I
took a moment to consider my mother before I said anything. She hadn't changed
much. Her hair looked a bit grayer, her single braid seemed a bit longer, and a
few more lines surrounded her eyes, but all in all, she was the same—in
attitude, in outlook, in misery. "He'll believe that?"

"Your
dah will welcome another male into the house," M'ma said. "This is a
man's world, after all."

"Your
world is a man's world, M'ma. Not mine." I shrouded my face with my hood,
responding to Evangeline's call for speed. "I'm needed at home."

M'ma
held out her hand. "Wait."

I
paused in the doorway.

"Please."
M'ma pulled her hand back and came to stand behind me. "Tell me."

I
looked back. "What could I say you would want to hear?"

"Are
you happy?"

"Happy?"
The word seemed funny coming from my mother.

"Yes.
Has your life been good?"

"Compared
to what?" I whirled about to stand over her. "Compared to my life
here?" I brought her face up to meet mine, where our eyes locked,
exchanging pain. "Yes, I'm happy. I have family. I have friends. I'm
wanted, loved, needed, and most importantly, I'm missed when I'm gone. I have a
life, M'ma, and a good one at that."

"And
this Taelach baby?" she asked. "Your niece?"

I
considered her for a moment. Why should she care? We were both punishment.
"She'll never go through what I did. I promise."

"That's
all I wanted to know." M'ma cuddled the now crying boy to her chest.
"I did what I could, but your father—"

"I
know now, M'ma, I really do, and I don't blame you for the way things
were." I almost placed my hand on her mother's slumping shoulder but
hesitated. Too much time had passed, too much had changed for me to lose
control now. "I buried Tessie next to Granny Terry."

M'ma
sniffed back a tear. "It's pretty up there in the spring. Thank you."

"We're
not so different, you and I," I said as I stepped away. "I just
managed to escape my captor." My voice followed M'ma out the barn door and
toward the house. "Are you ever going to do the same, M'ma, or is Danston
going to slave you out the rest of your life like he did Tessa?" With
that, I slipped through the rear barn door and from my mother's life once
again. I didn't turn back to look, and in doing so failed to hear my mother's
words, a mumble that would have released a bit more of my pain. Evangeline,
however, did hear the words and shared them with me later.

"Danston
is in the bed sick with fever. His sons are with him now. They're praying over
him, but it's not going to work. He's dying, Rankil. Your father is
dying."

Chapter
Sixteen

Purge

Master:
Aut sorcery is a sisters salvation.

Rankil

We
emerged from the same tunnels as our departure and stepped on Tekkroon soil a
half day behind the Yauld, the freed sisters and the rest of our expedition.
Olitti and Kaelan, who kept newborn Laura in her arms at all times, were
directed with me to the infirmary so the baby and I could be checked.
Evangeline rushed to tell Harlis of Longpass's plans and Norlynn joined the
preparations. "This is a good day to fight Auts," she said as we
parted ways.

We
were tired, but we all knew the urgency surrounding us. Sisters were preparing
barricades, creating weapons out of whatever was at hand. Broom handles were
being sharpened into spears, and furnishings were being piled high to create a
barrier. The Aut position hadn't changed, but their side was becoming crowded,
more crowded with soldiers than the space was able to support. The snow beneath
them melted quickly, and the stink of over ten thousand men nauseated us as
much as the smell of nearly five thousand sisters at close quarters offended
our attackers. The fatalities on both sides created a sweet stench unlike any I
had ever encountered. When I neared the evacuation caverns I saw that sister
bodies were being stacked in a makeshift morgue and numerous funeral pyres
burned. I searched for Myrla more hurriedly after seeing that, praying all the
while I wouldn't find her anywhere near there.

"She
hasn't come this way." Healer Agustus was applying pressure to a leg
wound. Her patient, a sister no older than five, looked up at me through
tearful eyes.

"My
mama is over there." She pointed toward the morgue. "Can you go get
her?"

"She's
sleeping, child." Agustus pushed a phase into the girl to render her
unconscious. She patted the child's face with her free hand then called for an
assistant who continued to apply pressure. "Her other raiser has already
gone to the pyres." Agustus stared at her bloodstained hands as she rose.
"Never in my life have I seen this number of orphan sisters." She
peered up at me with the same tearful expression as the child. "Last I
heard," she said softly. "Your Myrla was helping prep the spacecraft
for what looks to be our last chance."

"Last
chance?" I glanced at the sleeping girl, who moaned even in her
unconscious state. "We'll never quit fighting, Sister Agustus."

My
declaration brought a chuckle from Agustus as she cleaned her hands on the damp
towel that another assistant offered. "You sound like every other
Powderhead I've had the pleasure of patching up." She grasped my head and
turned it so she could examine Longpass's handiwork on my face. "The bruises
are recent, but they seem to be healing decently. Let me see your hands."

I
hadn't realized that I had tucked them inside my cloak. When I showed them,
Agustus frowned and called for an anesthetic and bandages. "Painful, I'm
certain, but fortunately there's no sign of infection." She deftly wrapped
each of my fingers individually then called for someone to bring some leather,
which she wrapped around my hands mitten-fashion despite my objection that it
could wait until I saw Myrla. "She'll be upset if you haven't tended to
yourself, so quit squirming." She finished then stepped back. "Keep
your fingers separated and try not to move them more than necessary. I want you
in the infirmary as soon as possible so we can recheck them." Agustus then
pointed to my boots. "Do I need to look at your feet as well, or will
doing so incapacitate you?"

"They're
numb."

"Not
good," Agustus said, returning her hands to the towel for another
cleaning. "But you're ambulatory, which is more than those around
us." She turned back to the sleeping child. "You're crowding my ward,
trooper," she said affectionately. "Go find your woman."

"Thank
you!" I turned to leave.

"Get
those feet looked at the earliest possible moment," she called after me.

"Yes,
ma'am." I kept my eyes above the carnage and bolted across the paddocks to
where Captain Tara's craft stood. I'd never seen the area surrounding the
spaceship so crowded, never seen so many sisters working for a common goal.
Metal stacks were everywhere, and the stacks were growing—beams, wall panels,
equipment, all of which were being removed from Captain Tara's marvel.

"Rankil!"
Myrla pounced from a hole in the craft's unframed shell. I held her at arm's
length for a moment then pulled her in for a slow kiss, enjoying the touch, the
smell, the warmth, the heartbeat of my lover. Our lips parted all too soon as a
worker yelled for us to make way for another panel which was being removed from
the craft.

"What's
going on?" I tugged at the heavy hide leggings Myrla wore.

"Lots!
Come see!" Myrla grasped my wrist and pulled me within the framework.
"Longpass's numbers are too great this time, so we had to take a different
strategy." We walked along girders and around bundled wires to where the
helm once stood. The view screen was gone, as were the storage bins. The heavy
upholstered helm chairs had been removed in favor of three bentwood stools that
had been lashed to the deck with salvaged wire. Genevic sat on one of the
stools, stripping wires from the helm's auxiliary controls. She dropped her
work when she saw me, almost falling into the open framework in her haste to
hug me.

"About
time you showed up!" She cuffed my head warmly. "And just like you to
show up after the work is near done!"

"Wasn't
because I didn't try." I made my way to the helm. "You didn't leave
much, did you?"

"The
engineering, navigation and weapons," said Myrla as she wrapped her arms
about my waist. "Enough to get us by." She slipped into my mind and
offered a pain-relieving phase that I politely refused.
But you're hurt.

I
want a clear head.
I winked at Myrla
as she dissolved the phase. "Enough to get us by for what?" I
shivered as a cold breeze whipped through the open structure.

"I'd
heard you'd returned." Maeminya made her way through the stacks to stand
just under the helm and peer up through one of the openings. "And I see
you've already been to the infirmary. I assume you want in on this, but I've
trained on the scope if we need to move Myrla to your position."

"Will
someone please tell me what's going on?"

"They
haven't told you?" said Maeminya.

"I
just got here!"

"Can
you use your hands?" Maeminya pointed up at my wrapped palms.

"Yes,
I can use them, but—"

"Then
I'm best suited elsewhere." She spun around and jogged toward the
evacuation caverns. "Good luck!"

"Great
Mother! What's going on?" I cried out as I turned back to Myrla and Gen.

"Partner."
Genevic tossed a bundle of wire clear of the craft and into a large pile by
what used to be the main hatch. "We're gonna fly this thing!"

I
peered about what was left of the spacecraft. "Fly
this?"

"Well,
technically, I'm doing the flying." Genevic squared her shoulders as she
settled onto the pilot's stool. "Since you're back, you're on weapons
detail, and Myrla is in charge of the scope."

I
eyed them and the craft with awe. "We've got power enough to fire the guns
and use
the scope?"

"Power
enough?" Genevic laughed. "We've got power to spare now that the
load's been lightened." She flipped on the helm's main power, and the
remaining view screen flared to life.

"Greetings."
The computer's voice was more powerful than I remembered.

"Trooper
Rankil is back aboard, computer," said Genevic. "Please reinstall her
authority."

"Reinstalling."

I
heard the distinct sound of a generator clicking on and then off.

"Completed."

"Generators?"
I looked through the chaos for where the noise originated. "We're running
on generators now?"

"Seventeen
of them," Myrla boasted. "That's where Genevic will be hiding."

"Where
are the generators anyway?" I asked.

"Below
and behind us." Genevic stomped the only section of floor that remained
intact then pulled three sets of headphones from under the helm. "These
are ours." Her grin continued its edge as she distributed the headphones
and strapped the air pack across her chest.

"I'm
gone for a bit, and you two change everything!" I exclaimed. "So do
you two have any idea when we launch this thing?" I took my place in the
seat next to Myrla. " 'Cause things aren't going too well and—"

"How
about now?" Commander Stiles navigated across the beams toward us, her
injured arm clenched against her side as she balanced with the other.
"I've got a message for you three." She bobbled then began again,
choosing the wider beams though the way was longer. "Maeminya says the
ship is light enough, and Harlis is screaming for things to get underway."
Behind her, the work crews had dropped what they were doing and were falling
back. "We're pulling back our forces in hopes of clearing enough distance
that our troops don't get caught up in the fire."

"Civilians
as well." My stomach churned at the thought of accidentally gunning down
one of my own.

"We've
lost all the colonies near the pass," said Stiles. "And we're putting
everybody who's not fighting in the deep caverns."

"The
Serpents too?" Myrla tinkered with her headphones.

"The
remains of your birth clan were among the first to be moved." Stiles began
retracing her steps, careful to keep her balance along the open framework.
"Be a damn shame to live as long as I have only to die from a fall,"
she mumbled to herself, then glanced over her shoulder at us. "We'll be
launching one of the flares into the Aut line. Watch for it, troopers. You too,
Myrla. That's your go signal." Stiles eased to where the hatch had been
and walked down the ramp. "Mother's Blessings on you three," she
called. Attendants shuffled onboard with extra clothing and helmets for us.
Then, when the attendants were grounded again, Stiles ordered the ramp removed.
She and the remaining ground crew moved away from the craft and then turned
about to cross her arm on her chest in salute.

Myrla
struggled into her new layers, pulling the extra leggings over her leathers, a
tunic and jacket over what she already wore. "Maeminya says there are winds
aloft." She helped me into a second pair of leggings. "Cold
winds." She ran a strap over her lap and latched it to the floor.