Flame Wind Read online

  “You’ve been off talking with a queen again,” said Dara. “What’s Redoca DiKandar like?”

  “She’s elegant. A little strange,” said Yajain. “Seems to me she knows more than she lets on about what’s happening out here.”

  “Interesting,” said Kebrim.

  “Strange? Strange how?” asked Dara.

  Yajain sat down in chair locked to the floor by the bed opposite Kebrim.

  “DiKandar has a captive tyrant on her ship. Aliens that can control people and her people hunt them. She wants to talk with Mosam because she thinks he knows something about them. I don’t really believe it. How could he? He’s just…”

  Dara glanced at Kebrim.

  “I don’t know either. Who knows what he’s been doing the past five cycles.”

  “You’re right.” Yajain frowned. “I have no idea who he is.”

  “He’s a criminal,” said Kebrim. “Can we start there, at least?”

  “I think so.” Yajain sighed. “But I don’t know if that’s enough. He’s a Doctor of the Harvest now.”

  Silent for a moment, they listened to the climate control. Kebrim shook his head. Dara turned to Yajain.

  “If you want to know more, you won’t learn it by leaving him in the brig.”

  “Thanks,” said Yajain. “I think you’re right, but I don’t have to like it.”

  Kebrim nodded.

  “If you do interact with him again, be careful. He’s obviously manipulative.”

  “I know,” said Yajain. “He’s tricked me before. I won’t let him do it again.”

  Someone rapped knuckles on the door frame. Yajain turned. A pale woman with dark hair, dressed in a fleet officer’s uniform stood in the doorway.

  “Jania,” said Yajain. “Is Ruane’s Blade still docked too?”

  “We are,” Jania said. “The captain gave me an hour and I thought you’d be here. I finally tracked you down, after the fight on my ship. Good to see you.”

  “It’s good to see you too,” said Yajain, smiling. Jania had been her best friend at the academy, despite being in the officer’s program instead of science. She had introduced her to her father. Firio must still be angry with Yajain. She sighed.

  “I need to talk to you,” said Jania. “But I won’t pull you away.”

  “If you can tell us all, feel free, Tei Officer,” said Kebrim.

  “Captain Gattri, my father, seems like he’s calming down. He’s still not happy with you, Yajain. I think he’ll get over it.” She shook her head. “I’m not sure when, though.”

  “I really crashed this time,” said Yajain.

  Crashed indeed, she thought. Any anger Firio felt toward her, she had earned by keeping Mosam’s presence on the fleet secret from him.

  Dara wrinkled her nose.

  “You can’t exactly stay where you crashed, though. We have to get you airborne again, Yajain.”

  “I don’t see how that’s possible,” she said.

  Jania brightened.

  “I have an idea, but it will take a little time. I got the captain to give you free rein of the ship. He won’t send security with you unless you ask for them.”’

  “That’s good, I guess.”

  “At least you can go to the bar again,” said Dara with a small smile.

  “I might have to,” said Yajain. “Can’t really stand dealing with any more imperial agents, or Mosam right now.”

  Kebrim frowned.

  “Imperial agents? What happened when you went after Coe?”

  “Agent Pansar lost it. He tried to shoot me. Mosam shot his hand to protect me.”

  “He still cares about you,” said Jania softly.

  “I wish he didn’t,” said Yajain. “Pansar and Boskem hated me enough before.”

  Dara and Kebrim exchanged questioning looks. She turned to Yajain.

  “Be careful. I don’t want to see you in her next to me, or worse.”

  “I’ll do my best to stay out of trouble,” said Yajain. “But I think I need a drink.”

  “You’ll have to go alone,” said Jania. “I need to get back to my ship.”

  “Likewise,” said Kebrim.

  Dara put her hand on Yajain’s.

  “I’ll be here if you need to talk. Not like I’m going anywhere just yet.”

  Castenlock and the rangers flew among the ships of Helle DiKandar’s fleet. The Redoca’s great hall blazed like a sleek golden lantern against distant pillars where no solnas circled. Storm clouds billowed in ahead and above, thicker than the usual mist. Alongside the fleet, some dozen kilometers away, the edge of a shadowy, gnarled reef appeared and disappeared from mists and clouds. Plant life bloomed on the reef, emerging from knot holes and creeping up the shell of the closest pillar that supported its mass.

  Yajain sat at a table in Castenlock’s bar, surrounded by the dome allowing a view of the whole scene. Beside her drink, a beer in a chilled glass, sat a reading pad opened to a volume on the poetic history of divergence.

  Bandojens, armored reef-dwellers

  Kyteps, tall pillar watchers

  Sorai, strong sensing tendrils

  Ditari, sharp, hollow hunters

  Nuinn, keepers of ancient ways

  The volume’s opening stanza was one old Doctor Savar once ranted to Yajain and Mosam about. He’d carried on about how the author wanted to separate the peoples in order to justify the war his, primarily sorai-populated, nation was currently engaged in. Regardless of what Savar had said all those years ago, the stanza drew in broad strokes. The next five cantos detailed the physical differences between the subspecies down to the finest points. The theories of how humanity diverged filled the rest of the volume.

  This volume was a long one but not one theory was absolutely conclusive. Yajain had read it all before. She emptied her glass, the third of the dark shift, and leaned over the table. She tapped the screen to switch if off. The reading pad’s data assistant chimed, but she didn’t check it. Instead, she picked it up, stood and then turned from the table.

  Yajain’s first experience with alcohol had been mild, like her current state but with more drinks. She’d been at the academy and a boy had been involved. His name? It didn’t matter, because she’d only seen him the one night, a fellow student at a large school. He had come on sweet. Wanted to take her home, well, at first anyway. That didn’t last after he learned her last name.

  Father once told Yajain while they climbed within the arc on the outside of Kaga settlement that his Redoca had forced him to change his surname when he was exiled. Few Ditari were ever so completely disowned. The boy didn’t care about the details. He backed away fast.

  Outside the wrap around the dome of Castenlock’s bar, lightning flickered. The edge of the reef reached out with jagged fingers, clawing at empty air.

  Orders came down from Firio and Pansar. The fleet headed for Sifar Pillar, at the center of the Shaull Cluster. The settlement was under the control of tyrants, or so Helle DiKandar apparently thought.

  Flat screens displayed images of news and storms as Yajain walked for the exit of the bar.

  The Dilinian Governor of Shaull Cluster, Tirel Sovilan appeared on a screen, his face darkened by a full black beard. The headline under the image displayed his decree of secession from Dilinia. Tyrant-controlled or not, his personal forces were rebels now.

  Yajain stepped into the central corridor of Castenlock. She paused and scanned both directions for movers but there weren’t any. The prospect of a walk back to Solnakite on the dark shift when the heating was minimized and the storm winds went on raging didn’t thrill her. Nevertheless, she activated her heat suit on a low setting, then started aft toward the docking hangars.

  A few minutes into the walk a mover activated ahead and set off in her direction. Yajain waved to the pilot behind its blinking front lights. The mover slowed as it approached. A figure rose from a seat on the little craft’s back. Finder Zozan jumped fr
om the hovering mover. Yajain nodded to him, but that didn’t seem to be enough. He marched over to her.

  “Doctor,” he said. “Agent Pansar wants to speak to you.”

  “Now?” Yajain folded her arms. “I don’t know what he told you, Finder, but he’s not getting any time from me.”

  “Please, doctor. Agent Pansar is willing to let the past be the past.”

  “Is he going to lose the hand?”

  Zozan grimaced.

  “He already has, doctor.”

  Yajain’s stomach turned at the memory of Mosam’s coil bolt striking home.

  “He’ll have a prosthetic soon enough.” Zozan leaned in, bringing his face close to hers. “Please, he wishes to discuss the tyrants.”

  “I don’t know anything about them. Not any more than he does.”

  Zozan shrugged.

  “Mosam Coe will not speak to him.”

  “What is it about you finders? You always seem to know how to make me feel special.” Yajain pushed him back with one hand. “If Mosam wouldn’t talk to him, neither will I.”

  Zozan’s fists clenched.

  “I have tried to be diplomatic, doctor. But this is about Sifar. There could be a battle close to the settlement if the Redoca’s fleet continues with us.”

  All those people, probably at hundreds of thousands in the settlement alone.

  “Alright,” Yajain said. “But what can I do about it?”

  “You can listen to Agent Pansar.” Zozan motioned to the mover. “I’ll go with you if you’re worried about his temper.”

  “I’ll go, but don’t think I trust you much more than I trust him.”

  “Thank you, doctor.”

  Yajain tucked her reading pad under one arm and climbed up onto the mover. Zozan clambered up beside her. The mover powered and sped off along the length of Castenlock.

  In Agent Pansar’s cabin, Yajain declined the seat Zozan offered. Pansar took a few minutes to arrive, and in that time Yajain paced, unhappy and feeling slower from her drinks. He would keep me waiting.

  Each officer’s cabin consisted of two rooms. The anteroom where Yajain paced, and the main room beyond a sealed door. Two chairs were bolted to the floor in the narrow rectangular box of the anteroom. Zozan occupied one chair and hunched forward, hands clasped. He was tall, and the room tiny. The combination left little room to pace but Yajain refused to sit.

  Pansar opened the door leading back to the bunks awkwardly with his remaining hand. Yajain met his eyes. His usual glare gone, Pansar just looked tired.

  “Doctor Aksari, I’m glad you could meet me.”

  Yajain folded her arms. “I wish I could say the same.”

  Pansar shrugged.

  “I’ll admit. I’ve not been diplomatic.”

  “You wanted to kill me.”

  “I thought I had evidence.”

  “You thought.”

  “Yes.” Pansar raised the bandaged end of his right arm. “Didn’t Coe punish me enough?”

  “That depends.”

  “Hardly. I know now you weren’t working with him.”

  “But you still want revenge.”

  “Every traitor to Dilinia must be destroyed. Revenge does not enter into it.”

  “You changed your tune quick.”

  “Look, doctor, do you want to know why I called you here?”

  Yajain relaxed her arms and let them fall to her sides.

  “Tyrants. Fine.”

  “Sifar is a heavily populated pillar. Five-hundred-thousand civilians are estimated to live there.” He shook his head. “Redoca DiKandar wants to invade it directly and find these so-called tyrants. But if she does, the carnage will be intense. I want to avoid a battle in the settlement.”

  “To protect the people.” Yajain frowned. “What do you need me to do?”

  Pansar hunched forward.

  “The Redoca won’t listen to me. But she still wants to speak to Mosam Coe, who will not speak to me. I need a go-between. Someone not associated with the intelligence service. Someone they trust. Will you do it?”

  “To protect those people?” Yajain nodded. “But I need you to promise you won’t try to kill Mosam, or me.”

  “I will seek leniency for him if he cooperates.”

  “Thank you. Now, what do you need me to say?”

  Pansar turned his back on Yajain, head bowed.

  “Coe should know that three dead aliens and one living one that appears to be of animal intelligence do not constitute a credible threat to the empire. But if we could capture an intelligent member of the species we could request a battle fleet from Dilinia.”

  “And?”

  “I will clear Coe to see the Redoca along with you. Convince her of a compromise. We would fight a decoy battle to lure away the tyrant’s forces, coupled with a raid to capture Governor Sovilan and the alien controlling him.”

  Yajain’s brows knitted together.

  “You want to capture a living tyrant?”

  “To convince the Empress to send help, yes.” Pansar massaged his dark forehead. “I will not see this empire confront a threat blindly. We need to know more about this invasion.”

  “I understand.” Yajain thought to offer her hand for him to shake but thought better of it. She bowed her head. “I’ll do my best.”

  “Don’t do that. Succeed no matter what. Finder Zozan, take Doctor Aksari back to her quarters.”

  Shifts aboard Castenlock changed during the six hours of fitful sleep Yajain caught in her cabin. She woke with a new set of orders at her terminal. Report to the brig to meet with Captain Gattri in an hour. She showered, dressed in off duty clothes: black pants and a loose shirt with a jacket. Mosam might not know she was coming, and she wanted him to see her as normal as possible.

  She ate a simple breakfast of rationed mixed vegetables and byga jerky in the docking hangar. With ten minutes to meeting time, she climbed aboard a mover heading toward the brig.

  Firio met her at the front. They stepped into an office behind the desk. He leaned against one wall and held up a reading pad.

  “Pansar told me about your meeting with him last night. I approve of the plan, but you have to understand I don’t approve of the danger you could be in.”

  “Thank you, captain.” Yajain folded her arms. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “I have to get back to the bridge,” Firio said. “If Coe is ready, Officer Jacsaro will escort both of you to the tumbler bay and then to DiKandar Hall. The Redoca should be expecting you.”

  “You’re sure Mosam will listen?”

  “He’ll listen to you.”

  “I hope you’re right.” Yajain went out the door and back into the cell block corridor.

  Whatever she could do, she had to do now. Lin, I will not forget to make him pay.

  Mosam paced back and forth in the only occupied cell. After over a week of captivity, his beard had grown out and become shaggier. His wounds must have been treated during that time, because both his powerful arms seemed able. He wore a black body glove with pale dispersion veins creeping across it in spidery patterns. This time he was not blindfolded, and his green eyes met moved up her legs, over her body, and to her face.

  Does he like what he sees? Does it matter?

  “Yajain,” he said softly. “What are you doing here?”

  “I’m here to tell you, we’re almost to Sifar.”

  “The center of Sovilan’s rebellion.”

  “Yes, and a heavily populated settlement.”

  His features looked hard as if forged from metal.

  “Those people are innocents in this. Too bad, the empire won’t see it that way.”

  “Neither will the DiKandar Family.” Yajain folded her arms. “I want you to help me talk the Redoca into a different plan.”

  “What sort of plan?”

  “Topple the leading tyrant with a stealth mission. Sovilan might be able to prevent the wa
r if we bring proof of aliens manipulating him.”

  “I’ll do it. Does the captain know?”

  “I cleared it with him.”

  Mosam whistled.

  “Perfect, Yajain. Shouldn’t have expected less.”

  “Thanks.” Yajain flushed and looked away to hide it. “There’s a tumble waiting.”

  Mosam grinned. For a moment the climate control was the only sound. Yajain stepped forward and hit the keys to unlock the cell.

  Helle DiKandar met Yajain and Mosam on the high terrace of the great hall, standing against the view of darkened pillars, where only a solitary blue Solna offered light. Mosam followed Yajain closely, silent as he had been for the whole flight between vessels. The lesser hunter leading them bowed his head.

  The Redoca turned as the hunter stepped out of Yajain’s path. DiKandar wore a white robe, and beneath it jet black hunter armor up to her chin. Her right arm, naturally withered and weak, bulged with artificial muscles and carried a forearm bound mirrored shield bearing her family icon. The left ended in a gauntlet bearing four sheathed vare blades. The stark Ditari battle gear accentuated the fierce beauty of her face.

  “Doctor Aksari. Doctor Coe. I’m glad we have a chance to speak again.”

  Yajain bowed her head, at once aware of being significantly underdressed. Any uniform would have been better to meet the Redoca in than her off duty clothes but she’d only thought of Mosam before. Mosam bowed low, sweeping his right arm down to put his hand over his heart. After all this time, he still prized propriety. At least in some things, Yajain qualified to herself.

  The blue solna broke through a layer of cloud and beamed as bright as any of the creatures ever could. The terrace window, it’s tinted pane streaked with water droplets, absorbed some of the light, but the solna’s shine sparkled on water and running like streaks of fire across Yajain’s vision. Liquid flame-trails haloed the Redoca.

  “Raise your heads,” DiKandar said. “We have much to discuss.”

  Yajain obeyed. The hunter who had led them into the room left the terrace with a kick of arc lifts.

  “Thank you, my lady.” Mosam returned to his full height.