Blood of Denebria (Star Sojourner Book 4) Page 11

  I stared at the ceiling. “I wish I had a choice, but I don't. You know the SPS could mean the difference between war and peace.”

  She lifted her head to stare into my eyes. I wiped her wet cheeks. “And between your life and your death!”

  * * *

  “I will free my captured people first, Joseph of Earth!” General Roothe slammed a fist on the table.

  I jumped, but Joe, forever in control, did not twitch a muscle. The team was gathered around the table in an airless warehouse, now our safehouse. Reika was on my left. Huff sat on the floor to my right. I watched Roothe, tall even for a Denebrian, with broader shoulders than most, as he paced the dirt floor, raising dust where papers and debris were still scattered. He returned to the table. His reedy brown skin, mottled in creases, had darkened with anger. “I will free my people. Then we can discuss the use of my forces to help you locate your SPS.”

  “You understand, General,” Joe said in a quiet tone, intended to soothe Roothe's angry mood, “that while the release of the Denebrian slaves is foremost in all our minds, the acquisition of the SPS, and contact with Alpha, would probably prevent the loss of many more lives.”

  The general suddenly seemed drained. He sat down heavily, round mouth wide, and flared his nose slits. “I cannot abide the slaughtering of my people,” he grated, “like predators devouring prey!” His shaggy brows furrowed and his eyes developed a sheen of water. “It is unconscionable. The children…” He wiped a trembling, long-fingered hand across his eyes.

  The two Denebrian soldiers who stood silently on either side of the door glanced at each other. They each wore one of Huff's mouse beamers at their waists.

  I stared toward a glassless window, and pretended to study the swirling motes of dust in a shaft of late afternoon light. My tel power was a secret guarded by the team.

  I lowered my shields and reached toward Roothe's mind with a light probe, calculated to touch his thoughts without arousing his defenses. The pain and sorrow I felt there made me draw in a quiet breath. Chancey turned to watch me. But there was something else in the recesses of Roothe's tortured mind, a shadow that stalked the landscape of his thoughts. I probed deeper. A dark well. I approached it and peered into the image. A powerful, ruthless beast, the id, stared back up at me. I recoiled. My hand jerked and Joe slid me a look, then turned back to the general. Reika pressed her hand over mine to hold it there, and touched my knee with hers for comfort. I reached out a shaky hand and rubbed Huff's back. He leaned against me with soft white fur.

  I didn't want to return to that dark landscape, but there was something there I had to uncover. A thirst for…what?

  Bat smiled at me and nodded discreetly, as though to say, “We're all here for you.” Wolfie just watched the general.

  I took a breath and directed my probe back to that bleak landscape with its abysmal pit. What was it… There! An image of the Land Warrior weapons! Of course! Roothe coveted the Warrior weapons. His intent was murderous. Kill every last BEM on his world.

  I withdrew and leaned back in the chair. Joe had engaged the general with talk of plans, to hold him there, I think, while I probed. Perhaps Joe already intuited Roothe's desire for the weapons. But I could give him confirmation now, and we would be very wary of our newly found friends and comrades in arms.

  The general got up, said something to his two soldiers in Denebrian, and they left.

  Joe swung his chair around to face me.

  “They want the Land Warrior units,” I said. “Roothe wants them so bad he can taste it.”

  Joe nodded. “After nightfall, we'll stroll over to the ship they stole from the BEMs. The one they brought you and Huff in on,” he said to me. “These people have no technology of their own, and I'm not willing to share. On the other hand…”

  Chancey grinned. “On the other hand, we're not above stealing what they stole.”

  “What about those poor ole Deneb slaves over at the BEM compound?” Bat asked.

  “Collateral damage,” Wolfie told him.

  I watched Reika prepare the sous chef with ingredients for supper. “What're we having tonight, woman?”

  “You talk to me that way, tag, you'll be eating dirt.”

  I laughed.

  “On the other hand,” she said, “whatever gets you to smile. Your favorite, babes. Mock steak. Mashed potatoes, heavy on the butter, and a nice healthy, crisp salad.”

  “Sounds better than dirt,” I said.

  Chancey reached over and pursed his heavy lips as he squeezed my right cheek. “That's because he's so adorable!” He shook my cheek.

  I swiped his hand away. “Cut it out, Chancey!” If he had squeezed my left cheek, I would've had to hit him.

  “Save it for the BEMs,” Joe said.

  The silence was thick.

  “You know, Ree,” I said, to lighten things up, “you don't have to do all the cooking just because you're a woman.”

  She paused and threw back her hair. “I like cooking for men and watching them eat. Must be in the hormones. Huff. Your soup'll be on pretty soon.”

  Huff looked at me and curled his lip. “Soup?”

  “Oh, no!” Reika said. “Me and my big mouth. No, Huff, I just meant – “

  “I would eat soup, my Terran friend Reika, but you would have to show me how. Perhaps if you froze it into those little ice cubes you Terrans –”

  “All I meant was –“ she started.

  “Lard and eyeballs, Huff!” Chancey said. “OK?”

  Wolfie kicked back his chair, stood up, and went to the door. “Call me when it's ready!” He slammed the door behind him.

  Bat folded his arms on the table. “He's a good kid. He's havin' a hard time since what happened to our captain and Hank, the radio man.” He sat back and stared at the closed door. “But I don't know anybody who'd fight harder or take the risks Wolfie does to save a comrade.

  Joe rubbed a hand wearily over his eyes. “He'll probably get his chance.”

  * * *

  Denebria's two desert moons, the night shift, rose into the spiral arms of a starry sky, while the sun relinquished her hold and sank.

  “Locked!” Chancey called from the hatch of the black BEM land/aircraft and slid down from a stubby wing.

  “I was afraid of that,” Joe said. “The Denebs don't trust us any more than we trust them.”

  We left the barn where the small craft was housed, out of sight from the air, with our backpacks that held all we possessed. Huff had the sous chef strapped to his back. I had my stingler and the beam gun I'd taken from the dead BEM in the ravine. I felt fully dressed again. “Horses,” I said and sniffed the air. One nickered from a field. “They're not far. Does everybody know how to ride? Not you, Huff. If you can't walk with that cast, we'll find you a travois to lie on, my friend.”

  “Yes,” he agreed. “Lying might be better than walking and rolling these two wheels.”

  I patted his shoulder.

  “Joe?” I smirked. “Can you sit a horse?”

  He set his jaw. “I was on the W-CIA polo team, tag. Might've been a few years back, but I can still ride.”

  “OK, boss,” I said. “OK. Wolfie?”

  He set the ring on his rifle to narrow beam and slung it over his shoulder. “I spent a year as a scout in the First Cavalry Division, difficult mountain terrain training. Does that qualify?”

  “That should do it,” I said.

  “My parents paid for lessons,” Reika chimed in. “I got the preferred upbringing. Gymnastics, swimming, ballet lessons, horseback riding. Everything to prepare a rich kid for the known worlds, except a home life. But now I can ride Earth English or cowboy Western. I learned it in boarding school.”

  “Sorry about that, kid.” I rubbed her shoulder.

  “Well, down home on the cotton plantation,” Bat said, “we always had some horses. Quickest way to get around in the fields.”

  “Good. Chancey?”

  “Yeah, tag. I rode all over the Harlem pla
ntation on a horse, too. Fastest way to the basketball courts.” He thickened his Harlem accent. “Even better, my man, to outrun the po-lice.”

  Uh oh. “Well,” I said, “you're a quick study, Chance.”

  Reika chuckled. “We'll fit you with a seatbelt, cool dude.”

  Chancey winced. “That's machas brick these days, China doll.”

  “I'm not Chinese,” Reika informed him as we walked in shadows toward the horse field. “Vietnamese.”

  “There's a guard,” Wolfie said.

  “What?” I asked.

  “A guard outside the field.” Wolfie pointed. “Armed with a spear.”

  “Man,” Chancey said as we retreated to the cover of a wood pile, “these tags really don't trust us.”

  “Should they?” Joe asked.

  I shrugged out of my backpack, unholstered my stingler and laid down the BEM gun.”

  “What're you doing?” Joe asked.

  “Figure I'll go over and chat with the tag. You know, how're the kids? How'd your mother's surgery go? Like that.”

  “And then what?” Reika asked.

  “Well, these Denebs are pretty top heavy,” I said. “How hard could it be to trip him, knock him on his butt and let Huff sit on him while you tags trot over and tie his hands with something. We better not use a stingler's stun setting. We don't know how it would affect an alien's physiology.”

  “Is that before,” Joe asked, “or after you get a spear up your ass?”

  “Ah, let him do it, boss,” Chancey said. “He's so adorable even an alien will melt.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” I said. “C'mon, Huff.” I strolled toward the corral, my hands in my pockets, while Huff dropped to all fours and dragged his caste on the squeaky wheels.

  The smell of horses, the open field in the moonlight, reminded me of the time Lisa and I sneaked into Willa's ranch on planet Halcyon to steal a horse and escape from the dream czar's pursuing men. I wondered how my little girl was doing these days. If I came out of this mess in one piece, I'd return to Earth and visit her.

  “Halt!” the guard ordered and slid off the box he sat on. He was short for a Deneb.

  We halted.

  “Who goes there?” he said.

  I had to chuckle. Must've been reading an Alpha military manual. “Jules of Earth, and Huff of Vega.”

  “State your business.”

  Oh man. The old version. “No business, cousin.” We walked closer. “Just out for a stroll.”

  The Deneb lowered his spear in a line with my chest as we approached. I stopped, and extended an arm to stop Huff. I noticed an unlit guard booth not far away, near the field's tall gate.

  “Aren't you being a bit overly cautious?” I asked. “We're on the same side.”

  He fished inside his uniform, pulled out a wooden whistle and brought it to his lips.

  “Wait!” I said as he blew it. “We're leaving, OK?”

  Huff howled at the shrill sound and I covered my ears and backed away. “What's your problem, cousin?”

  Five tall shadowy Denebs piled out of the guard hut and ran toward us, brandishing spears.

  “C'mon, Huff!” I turned and sprinted toward our wood-pile hideout, with Huff lumbering beside me on his cast.

  With their long-legged strides, two of the guards raced across our path.

  “Stop,” one called. “Why were you near the horses?”

  “Out for a stroll!” I shot back. “This way, Huff.” I cut to our left, toward a cluster of buildings. My ankle began to burn. “I should've kept my damn stingler!” I leaped a log. “At least I could've scared them.”

  “Yes, scared them,” Huff panted, and fell over the log.

  Three guards ran out of the shadows of haystacks on our left.

  I skidded to a halt. Where the hell was Joe and the team? They must've known what was happening here. “Dammit! This way, Huff.”

  “No, Jules,” he said.

  I turned and smacked into the short guard from the fence. We both fell. I got to my knees and looked around as the other guards trotted up. “We were out for a goddamn stroll!” I said and stood up. “Bunch of crotemungers,” I muttered.

  They lowered their wooden spears, tipped with stone arrows, I noticed, as the short one walked closer. I saw his nose slits flair as he panted. “The innocent do not run.”

  “Yeah, but the scared do!” I brushed myself off.

  Huff growled. I saw his body stiffen.

  “No, Huff!” I put a hand on his shoulder. “We're supposed to be friends.” I looked around the circle of tense guards. “What crime did we commit?”

  “None,” the short guard said and gave me a shove in the direction of the village. “And that is because my cousins are so fine at anticipating them. Now walk!”

  I swung at his arm but missed. “Keep your hands off me.”

  He poked me with the shaft end of his spear. “Is that better, cousin? Now move!”

  “You – I'll shove that stick up your ass!” I grabbed the shaft, tore it from his hands, and jabbed him in the stomach with the blunt end. “Look, crotefucker. No hands.”

  A tall guard pulled the spear from my grip. “Enough!” He turned to the other guard. “Quiet the unseasoned rift in your blood, cousin.” He handed him back the spear.

  The short guard bowed his head. “I stand guilty, cousin, and corrected.” He nodded at me. “My apologies. Please accompany us.”

  “Where are we going?” I asked as we walked toward the village.

  “To General Roothe's office,” the tall guard said. “He wants to talk to you.”

  “About what?”

  “He thinks you are a telepath.”

  Goddammit, Joseph of Earth! I thought. Where the hell are you?

  * * *

  “Sit down, Terran Jules.” General Roothe paced the floor of his smoky office, lit by small torches in wall holders. But torches did little to warm a room that was cold as a tomb in the desert night air.

  Well, at least the crotes have fire, I thought and coughed.

  “Would you like a cup of hot pumpkin juice?” Roothe offered. “The seeds come from Earth, so it should suit your metabolism.”

  “No, thanks.” I scratched Huff's back and felt a bloated parasite. He looked at me, but I shook my head and left it there.

  Roothe was impressive with his tall stature, his brown and green and tan-splotched uniform, the high military hat covering his plated skull. From somewhere outside came chanting as Denebs gathered around a bonfire for a ceremony. The firelight flickered through a window. Was it religious, I wondered. A communal prayer for their brothers and sisters in the BEM slaughter camps?

  General Roothe strolled to a crude wall painting, his hands locked behind his back, and studied the simple, representative depiction of the oasis where the team had spent a glorious day before the BEMs caught up to us. The colors were gaudy. The pond as thick as blue mud.

  “What makes you think I'm a telepath?” I asked.

  He turned. “You get right to the point, don't you?”

  I shrugged. “You brought me here to talk.”

  He returned to his desk and sat down. “I have been probed by the BEMs during our forays into their territory.” He spread his long-fingered reedy brown hands on the desk. “I felt your probe during my talk with your captain, Joseph of Earth. But that was not the proper time to discuss it.”

  “We wanted to know your real motivations for the talk,” I said.

  “Then you admit that you are a telepath?” He ran a finger along the rim of a steaming mug on his desk.

  I smiled. “Is there any use denying it, General?”

  “There is one BEM. The embodiment of evil. A soulless creature for whom all living beings are born but to serve her needs and desires.”

  “Bountiful the Profuse.”

  “You know of her.” He folded his hands and stared at them. “We people of Denebria have never sought conflict. Never encroached on neighboring villages.” He looked up at me.
“We have endeavored always to live in peace with each other and all entities that inhabit our world.”

  I bit my lip. “It's a lofty ideal, General, but it doesn't always work out that way.”

  “Now we are faced with this abomination, and for the first time in our long history, we have occasion to request the help of the other.”

  “Meaning us.”

  He nodded.

  “General, our whole purpose in coming to your world is to help prevent the BEM invasion. That's why we have to locate the SPS and contact Alpha. They have to be told that the BEMs' advance units have already landed.”

  He cradled the steaming mug and sighed. “Adapt or die.”

  “It's nature's way,” I said softly.

  “Can you adapt, Terran Jules?”

  I met his eyes. “Depends.”

  “The time of the arrival of the BEM forces is a random factor. The slaughter and…” He caught his breath. “My people's enslavement is a fact of this time.” They expect us to come for them. I cannot sleep. I am never hungry.” He closed his eyes and drew a shaky breath. “They wait for us to come and save them.”

  “What do you want me to do, General?”

  “I want you to accompany us to the BEM compound where my people are held. We will travel disguised as a trading caravan from the northwest on our way to Korschaff.”

  “Why northwest? Aren't we south of the BEM compound?”

  “The invaders have traded with caravans from a certain Northwestern.” His knuckles whitened as he squeezed the mug. “They have taken their own people, from other villages, and traded them as slaves to the BEMs. Some will suck the mud of ponds,” he said through teeth, “for the things the BEMs will trade.”

  “I'm sorry.”

  “We will arrive at night.” He sat back as he recited his preconceived plan. “The BEM soldiers will be asleep. The few guards will welcome the caravan and the trinkets we will offer for trade. There, you will probe the BEMs for access to their inner sector, and the quarters where their soldiers sleep. You will be, as a Terran might say, the Trojan horse that guides us to the gates of their weakest points. And there we will throw open those gates and destroy every last one of the invaders! Never before, and the Great God willing, never again, will the world of Denebria run with such blood.” He leaned across the desk. “When the BEM homeworld becomes aware of this slaughter, they will leave us in peace.”