The Fireborn Chronicles Page 12

  “I don't need them at all, but Laynald likes to manually monitor things sometimes so I had them installed for him.” Rael smiled and headed for the door. “I'll wait out in the corridor so you can have some privacy. I've set everything up for you ... just speak up."

  Dash nodded and headed for the communications station. Rael stepped away from the door so it slid shut. He leaned against the wall. “Nemesis: intercom: Hail the common room.” Laynald's voice replied from the wall. “All secure here."

  “How much damage have I done? Are Ira and the girl all right?"

  “They're a little worse for wear, but I think they'll be fine. Ira's making sure."

  “Good. If you're free, then I need you to meet the Ambassador at the docking entrance, and give him what he needs. I'd like to finish this search up properly. Try not to disturb me unless necessary. We'll meet when I come up from the deep link."

  “Got it. Is that all?"

  “Yes, Rael out. Nemesis: com out."

  The bridge door slid open. Dash motioned him to come in. “Ops wants to talk to you right now. Said it was urgent."

  Rael sighed. He was not ready to report yet. He didn't like being rushed or pushed around. He nodded. “You need to head for the docking bay. Laynald will escort you. He'll be here in a moment to see to your needs on board Nemesis."

  They heard Laynald's approach from down the corridor. Rael left them both in the hallway and seated himself in the comfortable command seat in the center of the control room. The large view screen lit up before him with the face of an old friend.

  Rassa smiled at him. “Good to see you Rael. I was ordered to wait for your check in, but you're taking too long."

  Rael frowned. “What's happened?"

  “Momma Mahata is dying, boy. She needs to see you as soon as possible. I don't think she has much time left.” Rassa paused for a moment to let the news sink in.

  Rael stammered, “How?"

  “No one really knows. A couple of weeks ago there was a sudden onset of malaise, and then her body just started to shut down cell by cell. She's handled it pretty well and has had access to the best medical minds available, but nothing's worked. She slipped into a coma about an hour ago. No one knows how long she'll last now. I wanted to call you right away, but she ordered me to wait for your next check in, which now I have."

  Rael's temple plates lit up. “I'm four days away. Expect us.” All around the room indicators flickered to life.

  “Rael, can you bring Ambassador Dash with you? We'll need a full debriefing from him, and you, too.” The view screen split into three parts: INTERCOM: Rael's printed entry read “All hands prepare immediate departure.” INTERSHIP COM: Kree's confused face showed as he was hearing, “Immediate priority one status Nemesis departing now. Nemesis out.” INTERCOM: Laynald and Ira confirmations for departure scrolled across the screen.

  Rael spoke again to the primary screen. “Old friend, give my mother all my love. I'm on my way."

  A message from Laynald scrolled across the bottom of the screen. “Passengers and all personnel accounted for and secured. Ambassador is assigned quarters across from yours as far away from Ira and Tristen as possible; await further instructions."

  The ship's engine purred to life beneath the deck.

  “There is no way to speak to her now?” Rael asked.

  Rassa shook his head sadly, “No it is, perhaps, already too late. Sorry. I'll let you go now."

  Rael nodded. His temple plates glowed and glimmered as the lighting in the control room dimmed. The screens went black, the rolling purr of the drive system reconfirmed that they were already underway. He sat alone in mid-darkness among the flickering consoles for a moment before opening the command blast doors to reveal a myriad of shining stars. The universe seemed so vast as they sped through it now. The stars glistened and blurred hypnotically.

  He closed his eyes and thought of Momma Mahata. She had the darkest and warmest brown eyes he had ever seen, and they were always full of love when she looked at him. Everybody called her that, Momma Mahata; she never seemed to tire of mentoring the young. Her wisdom and charismatic strength were renowned, but she had been the only real mother he had ever known.

  She had saved his life as a baby, rescuing him from the depths of hell, putting her own life and future at risk, perhaps to this very day, to keep him free. She raised him, saw to his training and protected him against all opposition. It was she who had conceived of the Nemesis Team. She had backed, promoted, protected and molded it from conception into the single most effective and dangerous Gov unit to date. And she had seen to it that it was not affiliated with the PSI Ops. She had taught him so much. He had finally accepted her assurances that since she was the head of Dark Ops they would both be safe now.

  He gazed absently at the starscape. An ominous set of patterns, chains of events started to coalesce in his mind: the PSI ring's inquiries about him, Mahata's mysterious illness, the upcoming debriefing and Tristen's appearance. He felt his stomach knotting up as he looked away from the screen. The universe had always seemed so big, but now he suspected that perhaps it was not big enough. I am under attack.

  * * * *

  Tristen stirred in her sleep. Ira sensed it too. Their link with Rael had left them both hypersensitive to the outburst of his activity across the ship. A grating ripple cascaded across his senses. He steeled himself against it and reaching out, gently siphoned it away from Tristen and then eased her back into a sleep so deep that she did not even respond to the captain's intercom message.

  Ira rose and paused long enough to send his departure confirmation info, and then he headed down the corridor toward the bridge. Laynald met up with him along the way. “Something's wrong,” Ira stated.

  Laynald nodded, “I am afraid so.” He checked his dart sheaths, and they quickened their pace.

  The bridge door slid open to a darkened room when they arrived. The flickering panels cast soft shades and shadows across the bridge. Rael sat in the captain's chair facing the panoramic view of the open blast doors. He looked dazed, temple plates frantically flickering.

  Ira recoiled from the horrible onslaught of Rael's agitated state of mind coupled with the compu-link's activity. He placed a hand on the captain's shoulder until the temple plates quieted, and Rael turned to face him.

  “Thanks, kid, sometimes you're better than a drug. I guess I ... well, sorry, I'll just pull myself together."

  “What's happened?” Laynald asked.

  Rael shook his head, and Ira felt a wash of pain behind his voice. “Too much. Momma M is dying. I've routed us to her side at max speed, but it'll still take three maybe four days. Rassa says this ‘illness’ came on suddenly and that no one can identify it. I know what this is. It's got to be foul play, and it's irreversible.” His voice caught in his throat. “Rassa says she has something for me, been asking for me. I would cross hell itself to see her again."

  He looked up at Laynald. “You know, if she dies everything will change. She has been this unit's personal patron throughout all our operations. Gov Ops is very divided on whom they trust and whom they fear, especially in Dark Ops. When the politics shift we may be perceived as a threat to a new regime, especially if they are responsible for her death, because they know I will seek them out and kill them myself."

  Laynald nodded in complete agreement. “She'll have established a back up regime to carry on by now. Politics at her level is always multidirectional."

  “Plans within plans within plans,” Ira mumbled.

  Laynald frowned. “Tristen is going to become an even bigger problem."

  “Or asset,” Ira injected. “I think she gives us a distinct advantage. No one knows about her. She's our wild card."

  Laynald shrugged. “Unless she's someone else's wild card. I find it strange that she should fall into our hands so easily just now. And, don't forget the mysterious all-knowing Oracles of planet X."

  “I don't think so,” Ira insisted. “I can't sense any agenda
of her own. She is exactly what she's told us. And her help makes this team so much stronger. Her talent is phenomenal, and without us, Ops won't think twice about eliminating her, so she needs us too."

  “Yes,” Laynald added, “but she also makes us more dangerous and uncontrollable. They're already wary enough about us as we are."

  Rael turned the command chair back to face front and gazed again into the vast expanse of silently tumbling stars through the port. Mahata's loving smile haunted him, and he couldn't think of a single way to get the Nemesis there one minute faster. All that was left for him to do was to wait. Don't die ... don't die ... don't die.

  * * *

  CHAPTER 6

  Though the corridors at Gov-Station Prime were always busy, Rael's urgent demeanor cleared their path even quicker than the Wall Master's presence. In fact, Ira found himself hard pressed to keep up with him.

  Since her illness, Momma Mahata's office had been closed to the public, but all doors flew open for them without even so much as a pretence of due process. Rael passed the heavy wooden desk and stared at an elaborately rendered portrait of his mother's younger self. Even as a child, he had marveled at how well the artist captured her strength of character as well as her physical beauty.

  Rael spoke softly to the picture. “I'm here.” Hidden sensors activated the room's internal scanners before a seamless door slid open, allowing them passage to the housing corridors.

  The walk seemed endless to Ira even at Rael's breakneck pace, but when they finally reached Mahata's home quarters the door obediently opened at Rael's command. Ira followed him through lavishly decorated living quarters back to the bedchambers.

  Rael stopped before one last closed door and gently knocked. Ira felt Rael steel himself as the door clicked and opened from within. A short and slender middle-aged woman answered. She had close-cropped red hair and keenly alert blue-green eyes. “Rael,” she cried out and hugged him fiercely. “It's so good to see you. It's been so long!"

  Rael reciprocated until, noticing Ira for the first time, she pulled away. He motioned Ira to come closer. “This is Ira Haze, a member of my team. Lythia is Momma M's personal aide. We go back a long way."

  She reached out to shake his hand before recognizing the trademark black robe and gloves of a Wall Master. She shrank from his touch in mid-motion.

  Ira ignored her reaction and nodded politely. “Nice to meet you."

  She looked him over intently. “You're the Wall Master aren't you?"

  He nodded again.

  “Your eyes are really beautiful in this lighting, aren't they?"

  Ira blushed at the unexpected compliment. Most people found the way that his eyes glittered in the light disturbing.

  Lythia smiled and turned back to Rael. “He's awfully shy for a PSI Operative. I'm glad you brought him, though. Maybe he can help her."

  Rael's face saddened as he looked beyond her to where Momma M lay, still and silent. Her usually robust, round face was pallid and sallow. Her eyes were closed, and her breathing was shallow.

  Lythia sighed and led them further into the room. “She's been like this for a while. Doctors said she's dying, so she self-induced a meditative state two weeks ago. I think she's been holding on, waiting for your arrival."

  “Is she in pain?” Rael asked.

  “No,” Ira answered from behind them. “She floats, barely attached to her physical body. But when you call her back she will feel again; numbly at first and then with a horrible intensity."

  “You can handle that, can't you, Ira; full contact if need be? Keep her comfortable, and do anything else you can for her."

  “Yes, sir,” Ira moved toward the bed. Slipping off his right glove, he sat next to her on the edge of the bed and waited for Rael to join them.

  Lythia grimaced, “Rael, I'm not sure. Do you really think this will help? She's pretty frail."

  Rael leaned down and gently stroked his mother's gray hair. “Come back,” he whispered and then drawing his hand away, nodded to Ira.

  Ira touched her hand. The flesh-to-flesh circuit opened, and he allowed himself to be drawn along the woman's erratic and faltering passageways, buffeted and rushed along her current-ways. Ira struggled to slow and to calm them, pouring his own strength into her wherever and whenever she weakened. Eventually he found her core essence. It was dim and solemn. Ira touched it. It grew brighter and brighter until he found himself seeing through her old, tired eyes ... Rael's worried face with tears welling up ... “Mom, can you see me?” ... Ira retreated from the scene, retracing his path and continuing to lend his calm to its every rumbling outburst, strengthening and fortifying the irregularities of each failing passageway. Never before had he seen a system so badly deteriorated. For an eternity, he struggled to maintain it until the rupturing walls began to melt, and erratic spasms confused the flow's very direction. It swirled in places and became a maelstrom of discord until an overwhelming disorientation overtook him.

  Ira paused and allowed the current to carry him in hopes that he could either relocate the core or the surface currents. Neither happened. Too late, he realized that her life force was ebbing, and he was hopelessly entombed ... no longer able to escape.

  Ira desperately tried to recall his own pattern. Nothing worked; there was too much interference raging all about him. He was trapped there. He felt himself begin to fade and dissipate along with it. Then a bright flash drew him ... slowly at first, then with increasing speed. Abruptly there was only a pulsing light, blinding to look upon. He felt weightless but was no longer afraid. In fact, he felt totally wonderful; engulfed in serenity; everything was right. He floated in a glittering sea of golden light; all warm and content. Slowly something—some one—coalesced before him. He strained to make sense of the visage. It was a woman, young and vivacious. She looked familiar to him. He smiled at her, realizing that she was the woman on the bed. This was her true essence. “Momma Mahata?"

  She smiled at him and drew closer. Behind her, the brightness grew. Ira fought its lure, concentrating exclusively on her. She drew nearer. Her silken voice sounding in his mind. "Thank you so much. I could not have made it without you, but he still needs you, now. Go back."

  With an explosion of light, everything went black.

  * * * *

  His whole body felt thick and numb. Every nerve-end quivered and tingled. Rael's worried face loomed above him. “Breathe, kid! That's it, breathe!"

  Ira felt himself gasp huge gulps of air into his lungs; a stabbing pain wracking his chest. His vision clearing slowly, he realized that he was on the floor by the bed.

  From above Lythia's voice echoed, “Is he all right?"

  “I think so,” Rael answered.

  His senses still reeling, Ira struggled unsuccessfully to get up. His whole body felt ablaze.

  Rael reached down and drew him into a sitting position.

  Ira managed to lean forward and drop his head into his hands, belaying an impending bout of nausea. “Give me a few minutes,” he managed to mumble.

  Rael knelt helplessly beside him. Ira heard but could not quite understand Lythia's soft voice trying to comfort him over a horrible ringing in his ears. On some level, he realized he could no longer feel, even in such close proximity, any of the strong emotions that he knew the others had to be emitting.

  Ira startled as Laynald dropped down beside them. “He was linked when she died,” he heard Rael tell him.

  Lythia reached down and touched Rael's shoulder. “Give the doctor some room. I have something for you. Mahata wanted you to have it.” Rael reluctantly followed her. She crossed the room and paused before one of the tri-D starscapes that Mahata had loved so much. Gently resting her hand on the right place, she revealed a hidden compartment, which in turn sprung open to yet another touch. She reached in and pulled out a small packet.

  “This was with you when you were found. It's from your mother—your real mother. She tells her story in these pages, and she included a lock of hair. Mahata
considered making a geno-photo for you when you were younger. You always seemed to be so lonely, but she eventually decided you didn't need another complication in your life. She kept the packet as it was. If you ever want a genetic background done, you will have the means."

  She handed it to him. Rael looked along the wall for a chair and dropped into it. He sat with the small packet resting on his lap and looked across the room. Momma Mahata lay still and silent, eternally asleep. She looked so peaceful Rael had to remind himself that she would never awaken again.

  Ira still sat on the floor next to the bed, cradling his head. Laynald was trying to coax him into a nearby chair. Rael absently watched them for a moment. Soon they would have to report Mahata's death to the authorities. He was surprised there had not been inquiries from the PSI Ops Security Scanners. Surely, someone had felt Ira's presence. His activities had to have set off their alarms. Security on this station was too tight to expect anything less.

  Rael startled to a gentle touch on his shoulder. Laynald stood beside him, and he realized that he had not seen nor heard him cross the room.

  “Are you all right?” he was asking.

  “Yes, yes,” Rael answered, noticing that Ira now sat in a chair across the room from him. Someone had finally pulled the top sheet over Mahata's face.

  Lythia hovered nearby, looking worried. “We need to get Ira back to the ship, and you could use some rest before you have to report to interrogation,” she was saying. “Once I report Mahata's death, I'm sure they'll allow you at least some time to compose yourself. I will personally demand it."

  Rael nodded, “Maybe you're right.” He looked down at the bundle still resting on his lap. “Tell them to give me a day. I'll see that Ambassador Dash reports to debriefing immediately if he hasn't already."

  Laynald's nod verified that he had not left him alone on board the Nemesis.

  Rael looked again toward the covered body on the bed and then over to Ira. “You ready to travel yet, or have I killed you too?"

  Ira pulled himself out of the chair and leaned over to retrieve his glove from the bed. He slipped it on, straightened his shirt, and ran his hand through his raven hair. Then, smiling at the commander, he asked, “How do I look?"