Star Brigade: Resurgent (Star Brigade Book 1) Page 10

  “Korvan’s blessed bones!” she exclaimed. Tharydane’s curls of hair streamed behind her like shimmering violet flames. The aaln tore through the red dunes relentlessly, its speed still increasing. Tharydane let out an exhilarated shout and hugged the mount’s neck. Her whole body tingled in bliss.

  A sudden presence shook Tharydane out of her glee, just before the sand dunes around her erupted.

  Three large serpent creatures with grey scales burst out of the earth, twisting in graceful fashion through the air at her far right and left sides. And just like that they dove back into the dunes, showers of sand erupting in their wakes. Tharydane instantly recognized these as crotali, natives to Bimnorii’s Crimson Reach.

  “But that’s impossible, crotali aren’t sentient beings!” Tharydane muttered. She had sensed three intelligent minds. When the three crotali burst up through the sand again, much closer this time, Tharydane saw that they had reins…and passengers. Humanoids wearing skinned crotalus hide jockeyed each massive serpent, their bodies flattened against their individual mounts.

  “Duneskimmers,” Tharydane breathed in surprise. She had heard stories of these mysterious desert migrants, but never had seen one this close before. The crotali were moving too fast to clearly see the duneskimmers’ faces. They dove with their crotali mounts back into the dunes, but didn’t resurface. Their presences abruptly vanished from Tharydane’s mind, leaving just her, the aaln and the open desert of the vast Crimson Reach. In no time, the cubical profiles of Ymedes Slave Quarters loomed in the distance.

  Upon arrival at Ymedes, Tharydane bound the aaln’s reins to a nearby post and hopped off the beast. “Thank you,” she smiled and rubbed the aaln on its domed head. In reaction the beast sat on its haunches and began licking its own eyeballs. Tharydane flinched in disgust. “Ah, sweet Korvan!” The Korvenite hastily turned to the row of blocky, terracotta structures before her, all alive with lights and sound seeping from their small windowpanes. By now, every Korvenite had returned from their daily slave shifts. Further away loomed the lit up structures of Ymedes, called Rimhara’s crueler stepsister, mainly because it was run by members of the sadistic Maruduuk race. It also had what Rimhara didn’t—Korvenite slaves.

  Noriida Major had finally given way to the twinkling night as Tharydane approached the slave quarters. When she was little, Hugrask brought her here every now and then so she could know her race. Tharydane felt right at home. These Korvenites had taught her how to dance and improved her fluency in Korcei. Now she visited every other day—her escape from the depravity of Hugrask’s Hostellaris.

  During each trip, the Korvenites she visited would tell their tales about an idyllic culture long before the humans settled on Terra Sollus. A time when every Korvenite could freely use their abilities.

  Tharydane thought these stories were merely tall tales. She had been born twelve years after Korvenites were thrown into internment camps, having only brief memories of her actual family. After that, Tharydane had only known Bimnorii and its oppression of her species. She hated—ha-ated how none of her kind could share the same freedoms she knew. But what could one Korvenite girl do to change that? She tossed back wind-mangled curls and approached the closest quarters. Before she even knocked on the door, it flew open and Tharydane felt her ribs creek under an overenthusiastic hug.

  “THARYN!” a voice cried right in her ear. The other being finally released her. Masra was Korvenite like Tharydane, but pudgier and with spiky lavender hair. Her pallid skin brightened with a moonstone glow as she looked at Tharydane. “[You’re here! How are you?]” Masra hollered in Korcei, yanking Tharydane inside before she even replied. Masra turned to her parents. “[Mothi! Pothi! Tharyn’s here!]” Tharydane caught the familiar thin red scar on the back of her friend’s neck.

  Right where slave auctioneers implanted the restraining bolt to dampen her Korvenite psionic abilities. Even worse, it detected when a Korvenite has moved a certain distance outside an assigned township—and exploded. Tharydane shivered, grateful for Hugrask buying her freedom before one could be placed in her head. Masra’s parents, Amra and Stavroos, ambled forward. Both Korvenites were well over forty cycles, as noted by the streaks of gold running through their violet manes.

  “[Tharydane,]” Amra spoke softly. “[How are you child?]” Tharydane looked away from Masra and smiled kindly at the pair. Both eagerly embraced Tharydane, who relished in their affection. It didn’t matter that after six steps she was already a quarter of the way into the tiny abode. This still felt more like home than Hugrask’s. The quarters had the aromatic scent of various desert spices. Lit candles cast an orange glow on their belongings and beds. The room’s center was bare except for a small hearthrug.

  The family hastily ushered Tharydane inside to sit and join them for dinner—leftover crotalus stew with boiled bimweed roots. Stavroos served up a dish, insisting that Tharydane eat. “[Too thin, child. A stiff wind could break you apart!]” He all but shoved the steaming plate into her mouth.

  “[Pothi!]” Masra shooed him off. “[Tharyn looks healthy enough.]” Despite being three years older, she idolized Tharydane. At times it was a bit unnerving, but tonight Tharydane welcomed the flattery.

  “[My thanks Amra, Stavroos.]” She took the plate and dug in with the dipper utensil given to her. Only Amra could make crotalus meat delectable. As Tharydane ate her food, the couple shared stories of their life on Terra Sollus, ancestral home of the Korvenites. They spoke nothing of being forced from their home or sold into slavery after that, but Tharydane sensed the pain in those memories at the edge of their thoughts. Still, Amra, Stavroos and Masra found joy in their time together now.

  An orv passed before Othia, Zago and Zakros entered the house, three Korvenites who lived next door. Othia brought more food. The abode was packed full, but somehow there was still room to move around and exchange pleasantries. Zago brought his eight-stringed halaika, a Korvenite instrument that his master bought for him because of his hard work. It was long, box-like and sounded like a fusion between two different stringed instruments; the sizzling, high-pitched chords of one juxtaposed the potent bass strings of another. Within macroms, Korvenite-style music weaved through the small home. Zago strummed and plucked away, breaking out with fiery thaoque songs that always made Tharydane sway and hum along. The music told a tale of the Korvenite race finding their way home, back to Terra Sollus. Laughter erupted as Othia, Zakros and even Amra got up and began to dance along with Zago’s music.

  At this point in time, nothing else mattered to Tharydane. It floored her how these Korvenites, her brethren, had so little—no freedom, no gifts of Korvan—yet they made the best out of it and still found happiness. The joy in this small home was pure, so Tharydane soaked in every bit of it.

  Right after Othia, Zago and Zakros took their leave, Amra and Stavroos dozed under scant sheets on their bed. Masra and Tharydane lay sprawled out on the floor, stuffed full of food and mirth from tonight.

  “[I mentally linked an aaln today!]” Tharydane giggled softly.

  Masra flipped onto her stomach and gaped at her. “[How was it?]”

  “[Weird. I’ve never done anything like that before.]”

  Masra still gawked. “[But how did ya do it?]”

  “[Don’t know.]” Tharydane propped herself up on one elbow. “[I just tried and, it was kinda easy!]”

  Masra shook her head in awe. “[You’re so gifted, Tharyn. You’re going to be famous and stuff.]”

  Tharydane giggled and tossed back her curly hair. “[Oh, stop it Maz.]”

  “[No, I mean it, Tharyn. You have full access to the gifts of Korvan. You can come and go as you please.]” Masra looked down sadly. “[You’ll leave Bimnorii for the stars and do great things.]”

  Tharydane grasped her friend’s shoulders. “[And I’ll bring every Korvenite in Ymedes with me.]”

  “[How?]” Masra sulked.

  “[Ah, I don’t know.]” Tharydane shrugged and plopped back down. “[Maybe I�
��ll become a miner and find a big deposit in the desert!]” Both laughed quietly at this, trying not to wake Masra’s parents.

  “[Hey!]” Masra got up to a kneeling position, still giggling. “[Wanna do a mind link?]”

  Tharydane grinned and sat cross-legged. “[Sure, Maz.]” Closing her eyes, Tharydane exhaled slowly and steadily. She spread her mind out, letting her senses reach Masra. Touching of another mind sent a tingly jolt up, down and sideways through her body. They had done this several times. It was weird, but fun connecting so thoroughly to another being. This way, Masra got to experience a glimpse of Mindspeak. Tharydane dove into her friend’s thoughts, the familiar insecurities and desires, all of these flooded her mindscape. In return, the Korvenite’s own conscious soared forth; the hope for a better life, the joys from dancing, sending all of that into Masra’s mind. It was a beautifully intimate tapestry of two minds, a connection that Tharydane remembered experiencing once before with her own family, long before they were torn from her life. That felt like a lifetime ago now.

  Tharydane immediately felt Masra’s compassion rush forth to sooth those old sorrows away, at least temporarily. She was about to thank Masra for the sentiment…right as her mind exploded in pain.

  It came from nowhere, just like all the other times; agonizing, debilitating. Instinctively she broke contact with Masra and clamped both hands around her head to staunch the pain. That did nothing.

  Cloudless skies on a nameless world, filled with blissful starlight and the banners of many unified races were negated in nanoclics. The heavens roared—crying havoc, spewing forth a white-hot wave of light that scorched the land clean. Only charred corpses were left in its wake—and Tharydane experienced that unwanted ruin in the span of a heartbeat. Flashes of countless lives, snapshots of their deaths as they were roasted alive, millions of them ripped through Tharydane. Hopes and dreams not her own—gone.

  Joy from a lover’s kiss, rage from a missed chance, all destroyed in one sweeping wave of death. The hollow shock slammed into Tharydane’s mind. She stumbled into the walls, scattering plates and utensils.

  She couldn’t think. She couldn’t breathe. Her mind tried frantically to find an identity to this emptiness, only to drown in its inky depths ….

  “[Tharydane!]” The young Korvenite’s clarity began to return. Someone was vigorously shaking her. She opened her eyes and through bleary vision saw Stavroos, Amra and Masra all staring down at her. Stavroos was holding her by the shoulders, keeping her from sagging onto the floor. Both he and Amra looked alarmed while Masra hung back, visibly dazed by what just happened. Through the mental haze, Tharydane prayed that she had broken the mind link before it hurt her. “[Another premonition?]” Stavroos asked. Tharydane nodded weakly. Her lungs burned for air, reminding her to breathe.

  Amra moved closer, dotingly brushing away hair from the girl’s face. “[How bad was it child?]” Tharydane couldn’t describe it, nor did she want to. The images were still as crisp as day in her head, and she burst into tears. Stavroos quietly wrapped his arms around Tharydane, cradling her grief. These premonitions had started a month ago. Each one was more painful and more vivid than the preceding one.

  But what truly struck Tharydane was their growing frequency—and with no end in sight.

  7.

  “What part of ‘I’m fine and should be discharged’ don’t you understand?” Samantha D’Urso looked less than amused. In fact, she looked positively irate.

  Seated on a recovery room bed in Corowood District’s St. James Medcenter, Sam fumed as a crimson medical mechanoid examined her up and down with a scancorder. As long as Habraum had known her, she always hated Medcenters. Her white lace shirt had been ruined by the puncture wound, so she now wore a yellow tank top and had her golden hair pulled up in a slapdash bun. Habraum stood nearby with Jeremy in his arms. The Medcenter staff attending to them also had cleaned up his blood-soaked shirt.

  While Sam was being treated, the Regulat took Habraum’s account of what happened in the zoo. Thankfully they had captured all the Children of Earth involved. “These two-bit extremist groups are popping up everywhere with the Kedri-Union Trade thingamajig approaching,” said one human Regulator officer before departing. “Thanks for your help, Mr. Nwosu. We’ll make sure you remain anonymous.”

  Both he and Jeremy had also been examined by Medcenter workers and were found injury-free. After some quick medical background checks on the medical neuronanocytes in their bodies, both Nwosu males were good to go. Jeremy finally seemed less rattled; his main concern now was Sam’s condition.

  Habraum reassured his son that everything would be fine as they watched Sam’s surgery from the operating room viewing gallery—a right reserved for family, designated friends or emergency contacts. She lay on her side, motionless while a surgimech used biostimulants and lasers to stitch up her injury.

  …I can’t just leave her. A shivering chill ran through Habraum as he looked on, this scene eerily similar to one from a year ago; him freshly battered from battle, watching Sam lying comatose and near-death in a Medcenter bed, her normally olive complexion nearly as ashen as a Korvenite’s.

  I can’t just leave her, he had told his pregnant wife as his best friend clung desperately to life. Jennica had understood without even the slightest annoyance, looking almost resigned, leaving a few days later for Cercidale on her own to wait for him. The Cerc, blind with grief over his butchered teammates, had promised Jenn that he’d see her as soon as he was able, to be there for the birth of their daughter…. Instead, Habraum’s wonderful Jennica was taken from him, meeting her end alone, consumed by the fire and darkness of a spacecraft collision… All because I couldn’t just leave her. The roiling in Habraum’s gut from that memory grew so fierce, he had to take himself and Jeremy to the general waiting room. The Cerc and his son waited there until Sam’s procedure was finished.

  Half an orv later, Sam was healed up and good as new. That alone put Habraum in a much lighter mood, as did trying to keep a straight face as he watched her argue with the medical mech handling her care; a red and gold stick-like m-230 model. At first she tried convincing the medimech to release her. When that failed, Sam then threatened it with functional harm. Both approaches failed. “I—AM—FINE—DISCHARGE—ME—NOW!” she cupped her hands and shouted every word right into the mechanoid’s face. Sam liked Medcenters even less than Habraum did.

  “Ms. D’Urso,” the mechanoid repeated again in its monotone computerized voice. “Though we have treated your injuries, we need to confirm that all your body systems are at regular capacity. The injury you sustained would have been rather severe to most humans.”

  “Well, I’m sturdier than most humans, Mr. Medimech!” Sam snapped, crossing her arms. “Besides,” her husky voice took a seductive tone as she motioned at Habraum. “His presence is already making me feel better.” She stared pointedly at him, clearly expecting his support.

  Habraum sighed and put Jeremy down. “Sammie, stop being a klonk and let the mech finish.”

  Sam’s eyes narrowed into slits, “Traitor!” she hissed melodramatically. Just then the room’s comm system sounded. “Samantha D’Urso, you have a secured TriTran call.”

  Sam gestured in annoyance out the door. “See? I have to take that call—OOF!” She sprang off the bed with surprising quickness and tried to make a break for it. The M-230, however, reacted just as fast and snaked an arm around her waist, yanking her back down on the bed.

  “Ms. D’Urso,” the m-230 began to repeat like a broken record. “Though we have treated—.”

  “Shut UP!” Habraum shook with silent laughter. Jeremy, standing next to his father, giggled hysterically. “Yep, laugh it up at my expense, boys.” Sam made a face as the M-230 continued its scan.

  For a moment, Habraum stared in the direction of the notification in amused confusion. Who would know that Sam was in the Medcenter—? He immediately stopped smiling. Oh. The call had to be a military secured transmission, coming direct
ly from the Star Brigade’s headquarters on Hollus Maddrone starbase. Sam notifying the Corowood Regulat must have sent off a flag to Hollus. Habraum sighed, knowing a certain Rothorid must be on the other end of that call. Honaa, he mused, his memories of the stern Rothorid as bitter as they were fond. It’d be nice to reconnect, even though Sam had warned the Cerc of his former mentor’s violently low opinion of him.

  “I’ll take the call,” Habraum offered, earning a wary look from Sam. “Come on, Jeremy.” He took his son by the hand and left the room, the extreme sourness in his stomach returning.

  St. James was one of the largest and best Medcenters in Vesspuccia, its marble white corridors bustling with commotion and care for those injured at the zoo. Mechanoids and sentients raced back and forth through doors and translifters, mostly with floating gurneys in tow. The nearest TriTran was situated a few metrids outside the recovery room, a hollow rectangular booth made to receive the 3-D diagram of the caller. The circular side console of the TriTran had a tiny flashing square on top to signify a caller was on hold. Habraum pressed the square. “Commander Samantha D’Urso is unavailable; Captain Habraum Nwosu answering for her.” There was a short pause as the system confirmed Habraum’s identity via VoRec, vocal recognition technology, then a computer voice said “Please step on the platform.”

  “Stay right there sprout,” Habraum gently told Jeremy, who nodded obediently. The Cerc stood back onto the round platform as ordered. A column of light flashed around him briefly, taking a snapshot of his full body. The holobooth shimmered for a nanoclic as it received the 3-D image of the caller.