Inherit the Stars Page 9

  “Tell me more,” Seul said.

  “A friend of mine can read what’s on that gem,” Sar said. “I can’t say any more right now, until I know you’re committed.”

  He made no mention of the red-haired human. Did Sar plan to sell the woman or kill her? Seul had to be careful. “How do I prove this?”

  Sar hesitated, his eyes prying into hers. “Pretend you’re my prisoner once we debark.”

  Cheseia nudged Seul’s arm. “Let us find you something to truly wear.”

  “My appearance is inappropriate?” Seul asked. Kael had always appreciated her form.

  “You look too crisp for where we’re going.” Sar led her to the ship’s storage lockers.

  Though this ship was cleaner than the trawler her squad had boarded, Seul paid it little mind. Was Aldaar still in orbit over the crystal planet? Would Vuul follow this ship? She knew every decision would be weighed against the discovery of the Vim signal. Her own actions had to take that into consideration. If this gem’s potential matched Sar’s claims, her people’s search would be over.

  First, Seul had to hear the rest of Sar’s offer. Trepidation dampened her elation for a moment. Her race’s doom or glory might rest in the hands of that red-haired salvager, the one Sar called Kiv. No one else had been able to retrieve that gem.

  Kiv would not get out of Seul’s sight.

  10

  With Tejuit love chains jingling, Kivita entered Frevyx’s galley. Cheseia scowled at her and elbowed Sar. He spilled his water flask.

  “Surely you have better garments than those?” Cheseia’s biceps twitched.

  Kivita wanted to glare back, but Sar’s annoyed look and Cheseia’s jealous one made her smirk and place her hands on her hips. “Yeah, guess I’m ready for a night on the spaceport in this getup.”

  Sar and Cheseia sat on stools behind a counter. Seul stood in a corner, wrists bound, wearing a farmer’s smock. Food lockers and water drums filled another corner. A hot-wave disk and dry-disher lay beside the counter. Too bad her ship lacked such a nice galley. Damn Sar for his trappings, but he’d earned them.

  If she sold the Juxj Star, Terredyn Narbas could have far better furnishings.

  “What kind of disguise is this immorally supposed to be for her?” Cheseia asked Sar.

  Kivita bit her lip to keep her smirk from erupting into a triumphant smile. “What—these old things that Sar dug from his Locker of Former Lovers? C’mon. Like there’s anyone in the Ecrol system to see me, anyway.”

  Sar rose and handed Kivita a carb stick. Did his eyes just wander down to her exposed midriff? “There is. Umiracan.”

  “You been sucking jiir wine? That haunted planet is an old granny trawler’s tale.” Kivita bit into the carbon stick. The taste of sour nuts, sweet tree taffy, and protein grit made her mouth water. She inhaled it in two bites.

  “It definitely exists. Fortunately for us, Inheritor charting doesn’t truly know its location.” After Cheseia handed Seul a mug filled with blue slush, her eyes focused on the wall behind Kivita. Yeah, trying to dismiss her. She wanted to savor the Ascali’s insecurity, but the genuine emotion in Cheseia’s gaze blunted Kivita’s mirth.

  “There’s pirates, though,” Sar said. Kivita caught him ogling her again, but he averted his gaze. “Shekelor Thal himself rules Umiracan, last time I was here.”

  “The cruelest pirate in the Cetturo Arm? Are you crazy?” Kivita hesitated. “I didn’t snore that loudly to deserve this.”

  They shared a grin. Old times flooded her mind. Gambling with pirates near Gontalo, or exploring the planet’s northern ice cap. Holding each other in his hammock during norm sleep. Sharing salvage stories. Sharing each other.

  Seul choked on her mug’s contents. “This isn’t the correct temperature for protein. It should be colder. I can’t digest this.”

  Cheseia took the mug and put it in a food locker.

  “And what do you mean, ‘here’?” Kivita asked. “We’re already near Umiracan?”

  Sar ran a hand through his black curls. “We should be closing with the planet now. Shekelor knows me, though. We’ll strike some deal until we leave the system. Anybody following can’t track us because of radiation from the nebulae in the Expanse.”

  “That old spacer’s trick? Okay, where to, then?” She cocked her head, hands still on hips.

  “Wherever we can escape.” Sar left the galley.

  Cheseia handed Seul the mug and sat back down. Kivita sighed, then sat beside the Ascali as Seul sipped her drink. Only Frevyx’s dull engine ambience broke the silence.

  “Where’s your child?” Seul asked Kivita.

  The back of Kivita’s neck prickled. “What? I’m no mother.”

  “I saw a placard on your ship. A small female human, with hair . . . like yours.” Seul almost gagged on the word “hair.”

  Kivita sipped from a water flask. “That was my father and me near Tejuit Seven, when I was a little girl. What of it?”

  Clearing her throat, Seul lowered her eyes.

  Kivita and Cheseia shared a baffled look.

  “I never knew my mother or father, like you humans or Ascali do. I have a daughter, though she was birthed in the pediatric vats. I saw her once, before they implanted her cryoports.”

  Kivita’s defensiveness evaporated. “What was she called?”

  “Aldaakians are not allowed to know their children, not even by name. Those connections are old-fashioned. To survive, my ancestors shed what they considered unnecessary. And survive we have.” Seul gulped the rest of the mug’s contents.

  “Never knew my mother, either,” Kivita mumbled.

  “I am truly sorry,” Cheseia said. “My mother still resides on Sygma, my lovely homeworld. She would not abandon the traditional religion, as my sister and I definitely did. She tragically broke the Blood Bond with us.”

  “Blood Bond?” Kivita asked.

  “An oath of loyalty usually severed only in death. An Ascali certainly never betrays, harms, or lies to one he or she has a Blood Bond with. Another’s life and well-being irrevocably become that Ascali’s responsibility, even if she must harm herself.”

  Kivita eyed the other two women as a sense of loss thudded in her heart. “That’s sad about your mother. What happened to your—”

  “I need you all on the bridge,” Sar called outside the galley door. “Shekelor’s ships have hailed us.”

  Moments later, with Sar in the pilot’s seat and the rest of them leaning against the bridge walls, Kivita stared out the viewport. Ecrol, a super–red-giant star, shone millions of miles in the distance. It flared crimson, silhouetting Umiracan’s sphere against the glare. She marveled at the even greater spectacle around the planet: churning, spacious nebulae, colored purple-gray, bluish orange, red-green. The celestial-sized arms of gas known as the Terresin Expanse formed one of the Cetturo Arm’s outer fringes. Many of its depths had yet to be explored.

  The speaker on Sar’s console crackled with interference from the nebulae.

  “Heh. Damn sloppy code sequence there, salvager. Wanna give a plumb damn good reason why we shouldn’t board ya now?” The speaker’s Meh Sattan sounded guttural, arrogant.

  Sar pushed the mic button. “Tell Shekelor Thal that Sar Redryll wants that Umiracan Kiss he promised.”

  “What the hell is an Umiracan Kiss?” Kivita asked in a whisper.

  “Best damn drink this side of the Arm. As long as the server doesn’t slobber on you.” He winked at Kivita.

  Four ships came within sight outside the viewport. One was an oblong Inheritor transport. Two others had cylindrical Tannocci hulls. The fourth and largest was a saucerlike barge with a forward loading bay. No doubt dozens of armed pirates waited behind its cargo doors.

  Kivita gripped the back of Sar’s seat. “Shit. They mean business.”

  Sar reclin
ed in the seat and looked up at her. “Easy, sweetness. Shekelor will talk.”

  Cheseia fixed her jiir-leaf headband. “I certainly do not like this. You know the coordinates, Sar. Key them in before something unavoidably happens.”

  “I hope these individuals are not part of the offer you promised?” Seul asked in a flat tone.

  Sar said nothing.

  Kivita smirked at Cheseia. “See how he treats us? Too damn mysterious in his relationships.”

  “If we are boarded, you must seriously hide the gem.” Cheseia gripped Kivita’s arm; the Ascali’s fingers pressed into her flesh.

  Kivita winced. “Yeah, okay, okay. Can I keep my arm?”

  “Quiet,” Sar said. The pirate ships changed their positions until each faced the planet rather than Frevyx.

  “Well, Sloppy Redryll, ya can fly that trawler behind us down to the surface. You’ll be plumb damned if ya deviate course. Got a fat slug with your Kiss waiting down there.”

  “Quite charming, aren’t they?” Seul asked.

  “And I thought you had bad manners.” Kivita nudged Sar’s shoulder.

  Sar didn’t reply as he piloted Frevyx toward Umiracan.

  Still gripping his seat, Kivita almost touched Sar’s back with her fingers. The closer they neared the planet, the tighter her chest became. Through brown cloud cover she made out cratered, desolate terrain with bone-yellow soil.

  Cheseia took Seul and strapped them both to the bench outside the bridge, but Kivita hunkered down beside Sar’s legs. With luck, he still hid a pistol under the pilot console. Then she’d feel more comfortable about bargaining the gem away.

  “What the hell are you doing?” he asked without looking down. Frevyx’s gravity readjusted as it neared the planet’s exosphere. Kivita’s stomach jumped from the flux.

  The space under the console held nothing. Great.

  “I don’t know what you’ve got planned, but I intend to get Terredyn Narbas back. Even if it means selling this silly gem.”

  Sar shot her a look. “That datacore is worth a thousand times your ship, Kiv.”

  “I’m not stupid. If this is like any other Vim datacore, why not get someone to read it and copy the information to some chits?”

  “Not that simple—” Turbulence cut Sar off. His legs bumped into Kivita. Frevyx shuddered, then leveled off as Sar maintained course.

  Kivita’s head tingled. “Maybe Seul Whatever-Her-Name-Is can help.”

  Sar grunted and blinked, a flush spreading over his cheeks. Kivita sighed.

  “Listen to me. She could contact the Aldaakians, and after selling the gem, I could buy my ship back from them—”

  “No.” Sar’s strained voice gave her pause. “You’ve no idea what you have. Trust me, Kiv.”

  Kivita said nothing else, but she’d do anything to reclaim her ship. Her whole life rested within its confines. Mementos, equipment, clothes. That placard of her with her father.

  After clearing the turbulence, Frevyx settled on Umiracan’s surface with little incident. Kivita entered the airlock chamber, where Cheseia examined Seul’s flexi bindings. During their year in cryostasis, the bleach solvent had eaten up the Shock Troopers’ blood and left traces of dust. Seul’s polyarmor lay in a bundle near the wall.

  Sar left the bridge and opened the inner door to the other airlock. The dead Aldaakian was gone.

  “Where is he?” Seul asked in a level tone, though her eyes dug into Sar.

  “I jettisoned him before we neared Umiracan,” he replied. “I know your ways, about meeting Niaaq Aldaar and all that. He’ll be frozen out there forever now.”

  Kivita’s brow furrowed. “Huh?”

  “Commander Niaaq Aldaar led my people into the Cetturo Arm from Khaasis,” Seul said. “He drew away our enemies so others might escape. His ship is out there somewhere, with him and his loyal Shock Troopers in cryostasis. We prefer to dispose of our dead in the same manner. A cryopod deposited into the vacuum. Your method is . . . acceptable, Sar Redryll.”

  “Khaasis?” Kivita asked as a chill crept up her back. Before touching the Juxj Star, she’d never heard the name.

  “It’s the home system of my people,” Seul said. “You know of it?”

  “No. I guess . . . it just sounded familiar.” Kivita looked away.

  Sar gave Kivita a strange look and cleared his throat. “Gravity’s normal out there, but the atmosphere’s carbon dioxide and helium. I’ve got six envirosuits with full air canisters. May have to walk half a mile or so before we reach his fortress.”

  “Allow me to wear my polyarmor with a borrowed helmet,” Seul said. “Your suits will irritate my skin.”

  “You’ll be fine,” Sar replied.

  “There are rough fibers in the liners of human suits. I’d like my own armor. With it attached to my cryoports, I’ll use less oxygen and conserve more heat.” Seul smiled with the whitest teeth Kivita had ever seen. Aldaakian hygiene must be formidable.

  “C’mon, let her wear it. It’s not like she can do anything to us in it.” Kivita smiled, too, as Seul glanced at her several times. Asking her more about Khaasis was a priority.

  “Paint it or discolor it.” Sar went toward the storage lockers. “Shekelor’s men won’t appreciate a Shock Trooper dropping in for a visit.”

  “Thank you,” Seul said, though her eyes met Kivita’s.

  Several minutes later, Kivita waited with Sar at the secondary airlock. They both wore miner envirosuits, the name tags pried from the shoulders. Ever since their landing, he’d avoided her, making little eye contact. She started to ask why as Cheseia arrived in the her own envirosuit. Seul followed, wearing an Inheritor helmet with a yellowed faceplate. Her polyarmor had been dabbed with red marker paint, used by dry-dock mechanics to indicate repairs.

  Sar rested a hand on the door release. “I used to deliver goods to Shekelor years ago, but he doesn’t owe me anything. He’ll expect barter or gifts. Let me deal with him, and stay together. These pirates might kill you just for what you have on.”

  He pushed the release, and they all stepped onto Umiracan’s hard-packed, sulfur-colored surface. Frevyx’s airlock snapped shut behind them. Sar double-checked the security-code pad, shielded under an armor plate. Once again Kivita envied Sar’s oblong trawler, more than twice the size of Terredyn Narbas.

  Far ahead lay a stone-walled structure overlooking a great ravine. Ecrol shone above them like an angry red eye gazing into their minds. Stiff wind laden with dust buffeted them every few seconds. The craters she’d spotted from orbit dominated a valley beyond the ravine.

  Sar led the way, with Kivita and Seul following. Cheseia guarded the rear with the beam rifle, and Sar wore two small blades and a kinetic pistol. Kivita wore a steel polymer shortsword from Sar’s armory. Seul, of course, carried nothing.

  Two of the pirate craft she’d seen in space headed for the fortress. Blowback from the ships’ passage threw small rocks against their envirosuits. Ugly brown clouds broiled above them, and a pink sky lent the landscape a diseased look.

  Fifteen figures appeared from a swerving door in the fortress wall. As her group drew nearer, Kivita spotted sentries and gun turrets along the battlements. On their right, the ravine stretched into a plain pitted with square depressions larger than an Inheritor battleship.

  “What’re those?” Kivita asked.

  “Old Ascali slave pens, from feudal times,” Sar said in a tight voice. “Keep silent. They’ll be monitoring our radio traffic.”

  Kivita wanted to punch him, but she chewed her lip. Perhaps her suggestion about trading the Juxj Star had angered him. Events had happened so fast since leaving Vstrunn, and Kivita hadn’t contemplated where Sar planned to take her. She was helpless without her ship.

  The fortress walls stood seventy feet high, with cracked stones and crumbled towers. A ditch she hadn’t noti
ced earlier had been dug several feet from the wall. Bones lined the rough-cut trench. Long blond hair still clung to an eyeless skull.

  Sar glanced at her in detached warning before Kivita could voice her shock and revulsion.

  The fifteen pirates wore a hodgepodge of envirosuits. One stood out in blue-and-white polyarmor. All greeted them with brandished swords, kinetic pistols, and spike batons.

  “Where’s your flaming cargo, Redryll?” a high female voice said over Kivita’s helmet speaker.

  Sar didn’t move. “I make deals only with Shekelor himself, not you. He’ll like what I’ve brought.”

  “Right, fucking like the Ascali. Plumb straight for this teensy redhead, too,” a rough male voice stabbed through the speaker.

  “Shekelor.” Sar pointed at the swerving door.

  The pirates stared at them from tinted faceplates, but she imagined scowls and cursing lips behind them. Wind yowled as it gusted through the ravine. She wondered if slaves’ ghosts cried out instead.

  “It’s your flaming ass, Redryll, not mine. Now, is it?” the female voice said. “Hand over your weapons.”

  “I don’t think so. Shekelor.” Sar touched his pistol handle. Cheseia casually brought the beam rifle around. Even Seul didn’t blink her startling white-within-azure stare. Kivita had been in tight spots, but their collective backbone impressed her.

  “Quit wasting time and air,” a gravelly voice said over the speaker. “Let ’em in. Redryll, you get the usual . . . escort.” The figure in blue-and-white polyarmor gestured for them to follow.

  Sar beckoned Kivita and the other two on, and together they passed through the swerving door. The pirates trailed after them, and the door clacked shut, followed by a harsh echo.

  Inside, a rock floor contrasted with a pocked red ceiling. Two gun turrets tracked their every move. Murals of naked Ascali dancers covered the stone walls. The one in polyarmor motioned them up a stone ramp leading to the next fortress level.