Read Requiem for Anthi: Anthi - Book Two Online
Authors: Deborah Chester
Tags: #Science Fiction & Fantasy, #Science Fiction, #Post-Apocalyptic, #Space Opera
Rubbing his jaw, Asan decided to move the ship off-planet. Her crew had been cocky enough to leave the safeguard locks turned off before they exited the ship, so it would be easy for him to take her up. But if he did, he’d better not encounter her sister ships.
Leaning over, he activated distance scanners and set them for the planet surface. A blip showed almost at once on the edge of sensor range. He matched coordinates and marked the second distress beacon approximately thirty-seven kilometers northwest of Altian. His frown deepened. Saunders had never been there. Before she died, she wouldn’t have had a chance to set a beacon there. But Aural could have done it.
Once the leiis of the man who had possessed the body he now inhabited, Aural had been resurrected at the cost of Saunders’ life. Aural was his enemy. She hated him for switching off Anthi. She despised him for freeing the Bban tribes from Tlar domination. She had killed Giaa, the Henan girl he loved, and she had done her best to betray and kill him. She wanted Ruantl for herself. But if she thought she could manipulate the GSI, she would soon find out just how big a mistake that could be.
As he directed the scanners toward space to search for the second ship, a beep from communications startled him from his chair. Swallowing, he frowned at the blinking panel for a long moment. But the chance had to be taken. He didn’t want a follow-up team getting in his way.
His fingertip flicked on the receiver, and a message crackled across the speakers. He’d forgotten how slowly humans spoke.
“
Spitfire
, come in. Daro, are you there?
Dorian Grey
calling
Spitfire
.”
Asan drew in a deep breath and raised the pitch of his voice by a half octave, slowing his words as much as he could. “This is
Spitfire
. What’s up?”
“I was going to ask you the same question,” said the exasperated voice. “Who is that? Harley?”
“Uh…right. Repeat message,
Dorian Grey
. The black hole is causing all kinds of static interference down here.”
“Get Captain Daro on, won’t you? We’re moving out of frequency range in eighty-six seconds.”
“Not here,” said Asan, wishing he’d never answered at all.
“…copy? Repeat that.”
Asan reminded himself again to slow his words down. It made his throat hurt. “Daro is not here. He’s outside, taking a walk.”
“Are you trying to be funny, Harley?”
Merdar take you
, thought Asan. “Uh, no, sir. We just landed and—”
“Never mind. I’m sending down the rendezvous coordinates for you and
Vicemiam
. Stick to schedule.”
“Copy,” said Asan, sweeping his hand across the controls. “Standing by to receive.”
As soon as the coordinates came in over rapid computer chatter, he shut off the communicator and sat back in relief. The air vents blew across his perspiring face. As a Bban would say, he was wasting water.
He sat forward again to punch in a cross-channel access to the astrogation screen, then compared the readout to what he dug out of the log. The coordinating ship,
Dorian Grey
, was exiting this system to survey the vicinity. Good. That got them out of his way for a while.
The human he’d kept alive for interrogation had worn captain’s stripes. Perhaps it was time to have a talk with Captain Daro. The ship could stay here safely until he rounded up some technicians to help lift her off-world.
He heard the scrape of a footstep down in the ladder well and turned his head. It was about time his jen cadre rejoined him with reinforcements.
“How many men did you bring?” he called, standing up to flip one last switch. “I think at least two cadres should be staked out on either side of—”
He blinked at the masked figure who climbed up into the bridge behind him.
“Fflir? That was a fast recovery—”
He broke off, throwing himself to one side as Fflir drew a fire-rod. The blast missed him by less than a hand-span, searing a hole in his cloak as he sprawled across the polished deck. Pain throbbed in one shoulder from slamming into a chair base, but he was already rolling frantically to put himself behind the navigations console. Another shot went wide, and panel circuitry exploded in a snap of fire.
“Fool!”
Infuriated more by the damage being done to the ship than by Fflir’s betrayal, Asan did not bother to even draw his own weapon. His rings snapped out in one savage blow, and his opponent crumpled. The scent of Bban musk filled the air.
Straightening, Asan moved cautiously to the dead man’s side. He could see now that the markings depicting Fflir’s rank and house were nothing but crudely painted lines designed to fool him at a distance. With his boot toe Asan flipped the mask away. It spun across the deck with a clatter. He stared grimly down at a Bban face. The scarlet eyes were open and glazed with death. The bony plates of cheek and jaw gleamed white in the bridge lighting.
Asan scowled, turning away to finger the smoking hole in his cloak. He should have been more alert.
He fitted his mask into place and was pulling on his gauntlets when he heard another sound below. Asan froze, but only for a split second. Then he drew his fire-rod and knife with a silent snarl. On quick, quiet feet, he moved to the ladder. Where there was one Bban, there would be more. He would pick them off as they tried to climb up here.
The first came up, dressed in jen uniform like Fflir’s impersonator. Asan fired, and the man tumbled down with a scream.
“Choi’nana, chielt-kai!”
shouted Asan. “I spit upon the honor of Bban cowards!”
That was all it took to incite them past caution. Another sprang up the ladder at him and another. Both died, but a third behind them threw a mental attack at Asan, who reeled back. Steadying himself, he fired, but he was too late to stop the Bban from gaining the bridge and diving to one side. It was enough distraction to allow a fourth to hurl his jen-knife at Asan, who could not dodge in time.
The metal bit deep into his shoulder, knocking him back into the weaponry station. Dazed, feeling the hot spurt of blood, he dared not divert his mental shielding into the enormous amount of energy required to close the wound. The Bban attack was still hammering at his mind. One individual could not be that powerful. Several minds must be augmenting the attack.
“Choi’heirat! Za! Za!”
The shouting grew louder as two more Bban’n came climbing onto the bridge. Gasping with pain, Asan lifted himself on one elbow to gun them down, but a swiftly hurled jen-knife clipped his wrist. His fire-rod clattered to the deck. Growling, Asan hurled his own knife and saw it catch one of his attackers in the throat.
“Chi’gra!”
ordered the tallest Bban. A scarlet band of pon rank gleamed at the throat of his uniform. “Let him live.”
Two sprang at Asan, who still lay sprawled on the deck, and held their weapons on him. The mental attack eased up, but not enough for him to call for help. Anger mixed with desperation filled him. His own men should have been here by now.
“Do not move, Tlar,” growled one of the Bban’n. A powerful hand gripped Asan’s arm. “If you seizert, you’ll take me with you to the land of Merdar.”
Asan swallowed hard behind his mask. Perhaps they did not yet know who they had captured.
The officer moved to the ladder. “Luun,” he called. “Inform the elders that we have succeeded in taking Leiil Asan.”
So much for that hope, thought Asan. The loss of blood was making him dizzy. He let his head fall back. Now that adrenaline wasn’t holding him together, shock set in. The knife in his shoulder felt as huge as an axe. He grasped it and pulled it out. Half of his chest seemed to go with it.
One of the Bban’n stamped on his forearm and kicked the bloody knife out of reach. The air reeked with the stench of musk, blood, and burned flesh.
“Let us leave this machine, Saar,” said Asan’s guard.
The ex-pon came over to stare down at Asan. “Not yet. Bind that wound. He is not to spread his blood upon the sands.”
Obediently they hacked a strip off Asan’s cloak and bandaged his shoulder. The handling was rough enough to send him skating to the edge of unconsciousness, but he held on.
When they propped him up and installed him in a chair at the helm, he waited a moment to gather his breath, then lifted an unsteady hand to tug off his mask. Cool air touched his clammy face.
“Regard his cowardice,” said one of the guards. “As soon as blood is spilled, he offers his mask in surrender.”
Asan laughed scornfully and tucked the mask behind him. “I haven’t surrendered; I’ve just run temporarily out of weapons.”
The ex-pon flicked an impatient gesture at his men. “This machine is shielded, Tlar?”
“Yes,” said Asan, and closed his eyes.
His other senses remained alert, however. And it was as though the removal of his mask reassured them that he would not try to escape, for they relaxed around him.
Satisfied, Asan opened his eyes and stared at the former officer. “What is your name, pon?”
“Saar, great one!” said the pon, stiffening to attention. Then he growled and broke his stance as though in shame at the lapse.
Asan smiled. “You were in the jen a long time, eh, Saar?”
“All of us,” said one of the others angrily. “We served with honor. We served Tlar-dung to the blood.”
Their feral eyes glowed. He smelled a fresh release of musk and cautioned himself. He must not prod them too far.
“And you still wear your uniforms?”
“Only to trick you,” said Saar. “When we saw the landing of this machine we knew you would come forth from the Teeth of the Sleeping Giant. Our hordes are there now. Yes, great one. You look displeased. Did you not expect us to attack?”
“You’re fools,” said Asan sharply. “You can’t take the stronghold.”
“But we shall. And then the Jewels of M’thra, the ammunition stores, the transports of the Tlar’jen, and the food caverns will all be ours.” Saar barked in harsh amusement. “Even this great machine is ours now.”
“Chi’ka!”
snapped Asan. “This ship is mine!”
They all barked as Saar tapped his fingers upon his wrist in scorn. “Then why do you sit bleeding and weaponless?”
Asan held back his anger. The man had a point. But he wasn’t surrendering this ship.
In the distance he heard a series of booms as though explosives had been set off. He sat erect with a wince, and at once a gloved hand gripped his shoulder.
“Make no move.”
Asan’s mind leapt out, only to be blocked in its questing by the Bban force ranged against him.
“It is the battle, leiil. One you will not see.”
Asan frowned. The vibratory patterns of the explosives were unfamiliar to him. They must be Bban weapons. But what kind? Was this an unexpected Bban development, or had the Bban’jen received help from Aural? It sounded as though they were able to blow a hole into the Tchsco Mountains. If so, Anthi was in danger.
His fists clenched, but there was nothing else he could do. The Bban’n thought Anthi had been destroyed, so the computer wouldn’t be a primary target, but she could be inadvertently damaged if the lower chambers were breeched.
Loosing a sigh, he slumped across the console. The first glimmers of a plan occurred to him.
“If desired, we can drug you for the pain,” said Saar as one of the guards tipped Asan back into the uncomfortable seat.
He did not have to feign a groan. “No. Nothing. I would like to see the battle.”
Saar snorted. “Fool. You do not leave this machine until the elders are ready.”
“You are the fool. We can watch it on the viewscreen. Push those two green buttons on that panel over there, and the scanners will pick up everything.”
“A trick—”
“Pan’at cha,”
said Asan in contempt, and all three Bban’n reached for the knives at their belts. “What trick is it? I am touching nothing. I cannot operate an alien machine such as this. It requires several men all working together. Surely you saw us take them.”
“We saw,” said Saar, but his voice remained suspicious. “Little men with striped eyes.
N’kai
.”
“They are called humans,” said Asan. “They are small, yes, but very clever. They know how to make machines even more wondrous than this.”
“It is the Tlar’n who worship machines! Not Bban’n!”
“But even the Bban’n see the use of some machines,” said Asan softly. “This ship has scanners that can show us the battle. All you have to do is turn them on.”
They glanced at each other, clicking behind their masks in curiosity.
“Why should you wish us to see the battle?”
Asan held back a smile. “Because I wish you to see Bban blood spread upon the sands. You will fail.”
“Ny!”
said Saar, and strode over to the sensors. “These?”
“Yes. Push them together.”
The viewscreen winked to life with a crackle of static that made all three Bban’n jump. The snowy interference cleared almost immediately to show the panorama of desert.
“That is the area surrounding the ship,” said Asan. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply a moment. “To see the battle you must direct the sensors toward the mountains.”
“How is this done?”
“The controls to your right. No, lower. Yes. Those. You calculate the angle and…May I?”
He reached forward for the auxiliary panel on the helm console before him, his fingers brushing sensor controls even as one of the guards whipped a fire-rod on him.
“Take care, Tlar-dung!”
Asan moved his hands away. “Look at the screen.”
Unwillingly they turned. The viewscreen waved badly out of focus, but it showed the mountains in black silhouette against the amethyst sky. Brilliant bursts of fire shot rubble into the air. The Bban’n cheered, releasing so much musk Asan nearly choked.
“We are destroying them!
Cha’hoi
, brothers!
Cha’hoi!
”
“I think I can clear that picture,” said Asan after a moment. “If I am permitted to try?”
“Yes,” said Saar, caught up in watching. But his fire-rod remained aimed at Asan.
Hiding a grin, Asan improved the magnification. But at the same time he let his left hand drift over a linkup to pull in all functions except communications and life support to his console. The lower hatch closed, and the engines began warming with a subliminal whine.