Alien Shores (A Fenris Novel, Book 2) (4 page)

Was Klane still alive? How old is he, anyway? And where in the heck is he on this barren wasteland of a planetoid?

3

The hour passed quickly as Cyrus and Skar watched the missile on the scanner.

Each wore a silvery vacc-suit, with a bubble helmet attached to the back of the neckband. Under the suits, each had a survival pack and weapons.

“If it’s an X-ray missile, it is now in range,” Skar said.

Jassac filled the window, and the mountains on the moon showed themselves as high, daunting, and widespread on the surface.

How am I supposed to find the Anointed One
?
Cyrus wondered.
Do we just bump into each other or what?

The comm unit light blinked on and off again. It hadn’t been doing that for some time. The aliens were hailing them one more time.

“Are you ready?” Skar asked.

“Yeah, sure,” Cyrus said.

Each sat in his respective chair. After strapping in, Cyrus fixed his eyes on the scanner. He expected to see the missile detonate a nuclear warhead. Rods at the tip of the missile would channel the X-rays as a beam before the nuclear explosion obliterated the aiming devices.

Before that happened, Skar tapped the panel. Side jets maneuvered the needle-ship, rotating them. The planetoid moved, or at least it seemed as if it did to Cyrus. Soon, stars appeared in profusion, and still the needle-ship rotated. Jassac disappeared, and then colorfully banded Pulsar filled the window. The ship’s single exhaust port now aimed at Jassac.

“I’m giving it full thrust,” Skar said, as he tapped the panel.

The magnetic propulsion came online, slowing their velocity. Cyrus felt himself pressed against his seat, and it felt as if an anvil shoved against his lungs. Breathing became a chore. This was the strongest thrust of the journey, much greater than he would have thought possible.

“I’m burning out our propulsion,” Skar said in a strained voice. “The engine will not last long.”

“It doesn’t have to,” Cyrus gasped. He kept his eyes glued on the scanner, on the missile.

“This could work,” Skar said.

Cyrus didn’t want to bet on it. In the next few minutes, the Kresh missile would probably end all their dreams, and his life. He wished now that Earth’s Psi Force had never hunted for him. They should have left him in Level 40 Milan. He’d been moving up in rank in the Latin Kings. He’d become a gunman, a gang enforcer. It had been a hard life, a brutal one, even.

Would I have survived the Red Blades?
Likely, the answer would have been no. Several enemy gang members had trapped him the day Jasper and the cops had saved his sorry butt. Maybe joining Psi Force hadn’t been the problem. Why had Jasper told him all those things? Why had he picked Spartacus as a hero? Did wearing a slave collar, the lock on his mind, really matter so much? If he—

The heck with this. How does bitching and moaning help anything?

“It’s been a fun ride,” Cyrus wheezed. “I’m glad I knew you, Skar.”

The soldier was too busy adjusting the controls to answer.

“Too bad—” Cyrus said. He saw it then. Sight of the red line stole his words. The missile did not explode. Rather, it continued on its course just as before. Instead, a laser beam struck from
Valiant
and burned against the needle-ship.

Metal melted, making a churning, grumbling sound inside the chamber. Cyrus turned and shoved upward so he could peer over his headrest. A meter-wide area glowed red-hot to the side of the ship. It took a second for Cyrus to understand what he witnessed.

“Laser breach!” he shouted.

At the same instant, the laser penetrated the skin and beamed through the ship, hitting the other side. Metal melted, drops falling like rain, making a silvery puddle on the deck plates. In a microsecond, the laser burned through, making a second hole.

Several things happened at once. A gale-force sound whipped through the compartment as air shoved through the two holes and into the vacuum of space. Violent decompression followed. The beam also knocked out the magnetic propulsion. The g-forces stopped and they no longer shoved Cyrus against his padded chair.

“Put on your helmet!” Cyrus shouted.

In the violent wind, he reached up and slammed the bubble helmet into place, twisting it, attaching the locks. He pressed his air tank valve and heard the whoosh of air in his helmet. He looked over, and saw Skar doing the same thing. Then Cyrus’s gaze shifted back to the scanner. It continued to show
Valiant
lasering them—the red line.

Is the missile a trick then? That doesn’t make sense. No. The missile is a threat. Chengal Ras wants to capture us—capture me
.

Cyrus nodded to himself. The Kresh meant to cripple the needle-ship so Chengal Ras could grab them. That was the only thing that made sense. Maybe if they reached the planetoid’s surface, Skar and he would be out of Chengal Ras’s authority. Some other alien might have jurisdiction on Jassac.

We have to use that crack between areas of authority to make like mice and slip out of sight
.

Cyrus turned on the short-range suit emitter, linking the two of them for communication.

“We have to get out of here,” Cyrus said.

“We have too much velocity,” Skar said over the helmet’s comm.

“There’s nothing we can do now but try our best.”

Skar unlatched himself. “Yes. I agree.”

The laser no longer slashed through their vessel.
Valiant
had fired the one burst, disabling them. Now the alien waited.

The comm light blinked for their attention.

As the needle-ship raced down toward Jassac, Cyrus unbuckled, climbed his seat, and jumped after Skar. The soldier sailed smoothly through the chamber. Cyrus did likewise. He had trained in zero G maneuvers, practicing at times with
Discovery
’s space marines.

Anchoring himself with a magnetized palm, Skar opened the hatch. No air escaped because all of it had already fled into space through the twin laser holes.

“Turn on your boots,” Skar said.

Cyrus bent down and tapped the magnetic boot controls. He felt the soles vibrate to a new setting.

“Follow me and watch your step,” Skar said. “If you float free, there will be nothing I can do to help you.”

“I got it,” Cyrus said.

“What?”

“I understand.”

The soldier nodded. Then he walked onto the metallic skin of the needle-ship.

Cyrus followed him onto the outer hull, planting his feet on the stealth surface. The sight daunted him. There was banded Pulsar on one side and vast red Jassac on the other. It was crazy beautiful. Everywhere else, the stars blazed in diamond splendor.

“Do you think
Valiant
’s crew can see us?” Cyrus asked.

“No,” Skar said. “We climbed out the side hidden from them.”

Once more, Cyrus was impressed by a soldier’s tactical sense. “What side is the outer chamber on?” he asked.

“We have been granted a boon,” Skar said. “It is on the hidden side.”

“We won’t be hidden once we drift off the needle-ship.”

“We must hope atmospheric disturbance will aid us then,” Skar said.

“Do we even have a chance, at the velocity we’re traveling?”

“We breathe,” Skar said. “Therefore, we have a chance.

“More soldier philosophy, eh?”

“I do not understand you,” Skar said.

“Never mind. Let’s do it,” Cyrus said.

“That is sound advice.”

The two men clanked along the needle-ship’s hull. As they did,
Valiant
fired again, more steadily this time. The laser moved upward like a saw, and in moments it had sheared the ship into two halves. The laser didn’t stop even then, but it began slicing their half in two.

“Run!” Skar said. He pumped his legs, dashing along the remaining side of the dying needle-ship.

Cyrus did likewise, and for a moment, both boots left the skin of the half ship. He might have floated away, but the suit’s designer must have foreseen such an incident. The magnetic attraction of his boots increased enough to pull him down. He clanged into place with both boots. Yet it happened so quickly that he still tried to run. He wrenched his muscles by the exertion, and he toppled so his torso bent toward the ship.

Skar ran ahead of him.

You’d better think fast, Cyrus, or you’re staying here forever
.

Despite the throbbing of his joints, he reached and dialed down the magnetic strength of his boots. He also tapped in an override code, making sure his boots wouldn’t do that again.

As Skar worked the hatch lock, the laser continued to slice and dice the sections of needle-ship. Cyrus ran along the hull. He reached Skar just as the other pulled out a pole and a standing pad big enough for one man. The pad was deep. It was the antigrav plate and likely had enough battery juice to help a man land. There were two of them, though, and hardly enough room for each to put a foot on.

“Are you ready?” Skar asked.

Cyrus twisted around and looked at Jassac below them. This was higher than a crazy space-jump stunt. This was the two of them in orbital space, going down much too fast—

“Let’s do it before we chicken out,” Cyrus said.

“Settle yourself onto the pad,” Skar said.

Cyrus had a premonition, and he grabbed Skar’s left arm. “Swear me a soldier oath you’re not staying behind. Swear you’ll join me on this.”

“There is no time,” Skar said.

“Swear it.”

“You are the Tracker. Your life is more important—”

“Swear it,” Cyrus said, “or I’m staying here with you.”

“That is illogical.”

“Yeah,” Cyrus said.

In the light of Jassac, Skar studied him. Finally, the soldier said, “I swear.”

Cyrus climbed onto the antigrav sled. Skar grabbed the pole with both hands, and he ran along the hull. He shoved the antigrav sled and Cyrus, building up velocity. Finally, he reached the end of the hull.

Cyrus grew tense. Would Skar keep his oath?

Yes! The soldier leaped, hung onto the pole, and climbed up beside Cyrus. The two of them each had a foot on the pad and clung to the pole. There was a control panel, a very small one, at the top.

They drifted away from the slowly spreading wreckage of the needle-ship.

Cyrus’s jaw opened then. He visualized
Valiant
’s relative position in space. He realized that Skar had shoved them into the best spot possible, using the debris to hide them from the Attack Talon’s scanners. That wouldn’t last long, but it helped them just a fraction.

“You’re a tactical genius, my friend,” Cyrus said.

“I am a soldier.”

“I guess that’s saying the same thing, huh?”

Skar looked up at the wreckage. “They have stopped firing.”

They drifted down toward Jassac. The needle-ship, in its component pieces, drifted after them.

“Do you have any preferences where we should land?” Skar asked.

Cyrus had studied the memory crystal for hours, for days, really. It had shown Clan Tash-Toi and Klane as a baby. It had also shown the surrounding territory. He thought about everything he’d cataloged: the soil, the height of the clan members, their stone weapons, and the complexity of their headgear.

He remembered a few of the things the Reacher had said: The aliens had terraformed the moon. Pulsar as a planet was quite far from the system’s sun. That meant the planetoid was much colder than Earth would be. The deep valleys would be the most hospitable places so far, with the thickest atmosphere and the warmest weather. The little he’d seen of the Kresh led him to believe they would like warmer climes versus colder.

The real question was: Where would Klane be? And how could they find him?

I need a hunch
, Cyrus realized.
I’m the Tracker, right? Doesn’t it make sense I’m supposed to have some . . . ability to find this Klane?

Cyrus thought about Klane as a baby. He had been white-skinned versus the reddish hue of Clan Tash-Toi. Klane had shown psi-abilities even then, pulling a blanket onto him to cover his nakedness.

Squeezing his eyes shut, knowing he was a weak telepath, Cyrus reached with his mind:
Klane
.

At that point, Cyrus felt minds searching for him. Several of the searchers called his name. He directed his thoughts toward them—then, with sickening speed, he drew back and practiced the null.

The enemy minds shot telepathic bolts toward him.

“What’s wrong?” Skar asked. “You look worried.”

Cyrus couldn’t afford to answer. He concentrated on the null. He included Skar in it, and he made himself glass, a smooth surface. He had accidently shown himself to Chengal Ras’s psi-masters. What an idiot.

“Look,” Skar whispered.

Something in the soldier’s voice caused Cyrus to open his eyes. A laser speared past them and toward the planet.

I caused that. Chengal Ras knows we’re still alive
.

“It is time,” Skar said.

“Time to do what?” Cyrus asked.

“Hang onto the pole and do not let go,” Skar said. “Do not lose your footing, either.”

“Do you think we can do this?”

“I do,” the soldier said.

Cyrus wrapped his arms around the pole, pressing his chest against it. This was madness.
I can’t mind call Klane. I have to use logic to find him. What makes the most sense?

He had no idea. He didn’t know how reaching Klane would make one iota of difference. Besides, if the Resisters had clairvoyants, couldn’t the psi-masters have some as well?

“Drop us near a valley,” Cyrus said.

“In a valley?” Skar asked.

“No! The Kresh must live in the valleys. That’s my guess, anyway. We don’t want to land on top of them, but beside them.”

Stone-faced, Skar adjusted the controls.

Cyrus had no idea if he’d guessed right or wrong. If he was hoping for intuition, he had none. If he had special skills to help him find Klane, he didn’t know what they were.

“Ten seconds until we begin,” Skar said.

“Will using the sled’s power make us visible to those on
Valiant
?”

“The possibility exists,” Skar said. The seconds lengthened until the soldier said, “Three, two, one, zero.” He tapped the controls, and the wild ride down to the surface began.