Trapped On Talonque: (A Sectors SF romance) (21 page)

“You were frightened of the unknown. I understood.” Nate leaned over to kiss her gently on the forehead. “Can you stand?” He kept one arm behind her back as a brace.

“Let’s find out.” Bithia gathered herself and swung her legs over the side of the couch. With Nate’s strong arm to steady her, she straightened and swayed before flashing him a triumphant grin. The next moment, her knees buckled, and Nate caught her in his arms. He shifted to set her on the couch, and instantly she protested.

“No! I won’t take the chance of being held by the device.”

Moving away from the couch, holding her effortlessly in his arms, he said, “I understand your qualms. Let me carry you until you regain your strength.”

“You can’t carry me to the mountains.”

“We can steal kemat, maybe from the royal stables. Have you ever ridden?”

“Once or twice, a long time ago.”

Startled by the idea after all the emotional tension of a few moments ago, Nate realized she was teasing him. He laughed, and she joined in the mirth, together for the first time outside of a dream, her head resting on his shoulder. He was happy.

A moment later Thom clattered down the stairs and through the entryway, Atletl and Celixia right behind him. “Sorry to interrupt, but the alarm is up out there. All hell is breaking loose.”

From her position safely in Nate’s arms, Bithia studied the sergeant with interest. “This is your friend you told me about?”

“Sergeant Thom Curran at your service, ma’am.” He snapped off a crisp salute. “My thanks for rescuing us in the first place. Now if we could get out of here…”

“The Lady must eat,” Celixia said from behind Thom.

Nate set Bithia on her feet, keeping his arm around her waist for support. “We’ll get her something, steal food from the marketplace—”

The priestess cut Nate off. “She must eat of the sacred food her father left and drink from the Two Wines.”

“There isn’t time—”

“Wait, I—I think she may be right,” Bithia said slowly. “I have a memory of my father telling me Hialar would have things I’d need to ingest when I emerged from the device’s care to stabilize my system.”

“Does she have to eat it here, or can we do this on the go?” Thom asked, his patience apparently at the breaking point. “This ain’t exactly the place for a picnic. The enemy is pounding on the damn door up there. If one of the priestesses can get the words and tone right, they’ll be in here with us. Too close in here to use the Mark Ones. Don’t think the lady and Celixia are going to do well in hand-to-hand combat. We need to try to find another exit, another tunnel, something.”

“You’re right.” Nate looked over at Celixia. “We have to be guided by you. Does the red box hold what she needs? And can she eat it as we go?”

“My family kept its secrets well, despite the efforts of Sarbordon’s people.” Celixia was proud, triumphant even. “He believed he knew everything from poring over the ancient tablets. As if those contained all the knowledge of the Hialar.”

“I grow light-headed, dizzy,” Bithia said, her tone alarmed. She touched her forehead again and leaned more heavily on Nate’s arm.

“Sit on the stair, and Celixia can fix you the required nutrients.” Nate addressed his next remarks to the frowning, fidgeting Thom. “We have to strategize anyway. There’s not any practical way we can fight our way out the front door. And we don’t know if there’s a back door.”

Narrowing her eyes, Bithia squeezed his hand. “Of course there’s another way out of the chamber.”

Celixia opened the red box and handed Bithia a cylindrical container. The erstwhile goddess opened it with a fluid tap on the right side and drank it in one long swallow. “Marvelous to be able to eat and drink again. I can’t tell you the pleasure of the simple act.”

“Take it easy since it’s been so long,” Nate said as Celixia crumbled a dense breadlike substance packed with dried maroon-striped berries. “You don’t want to overtax your digestive system all at once.”

Bithia nodded, her mouth full of the bread. She reached for the second flagon of what Celixia had called the Two Wines and swallowed more slowly. “This room is only part of the installation we have here at Nochen. The panel there”—she nodded at the facing wall—“opens into the main research chamber, storerooms, private quarters. I can get my things, including clothing that’s more appropriate.” She frowned at her glimmering dress.

Nate realized she must be wearing a nightgown. She glared at him. Too late, he remembered Bithia could read any thought of his she chose, except for the ones behind the mental block he had on details of the storehouse excursion. He changed the subject from clothing to escape. “Can we get out of this complex? Into the city maybe? Or even better, into the open countryside?”

Bithia, chewing with gusto, nodded.

Into Nate’s head came the sequence of the symbols to push to open the access to the rest of the installation. He located the correct portion of the display and keyed the circuit. Silently and efficiently, a panel slid back, revealing a lighted passageway beyond.

Intrigued to find out what lay ahead, Nate waited while Bithia finished her mouthful. Then she stood, a bit shakily, brushing crumbs from her clothing. Instantly, Nate was at her elbow, steadying her, earning himself a breathtaking smile.

“Well, boys and girls, shall we see more of the marvels of Fr’taray?” Thom asked. “Left to yourselves, you two would stand and make googly eyes at each other all day.”

Nate escorted Bithia across the healing chamber and entered the passageway, the others close behind. The wall silently closed behind them, leaving no sign of their ever having been in the healing chamber, save for a few crumbs on the stair and two discarded containers.

The Sleeping Goddess of Nochen slept no more on her metallic couch.

CHAPTER SEVEN

As the wall panel slid closed behind him, Nate found himself in a brightly lit, featureless hallway ten yards in length. The floor sloped sharply upward. Bithia walked forward with confident eagerness, so he trailed her, senses alert for trouble of any kind. At the other end, the passage opened into a large room. Jaw dropping, hand on her chest over her heart, she stopped on the threshold. “This isn’t right. Where are all the experiments? The supplies?”

“Place is a mess, all right, ma’am.” Taking point, Thom stepped past her and Nate and moved into the center of the room, examining the disarray. “Kinda reminds me of the storehouse. Personnel cleared out of here in a hurry too.”

The lab had been gutted, equipment and furnishings torn from their stands or wall fastenings. A few bulky pieces of unknown equipment sat askew on the floor. Several items appeared to be in the process of being disassembled, parts of all sizes and shapes spread on the floor, as if the technician stepped away in the middle of the task, expecting to resume later. One huge item hung suspended precariously from a nest of tubes and struts. Another tall set of shelves had been toppled to the floor, broken containers surrounded by ancient chemical stains etched onto the surface of the floor. Crates like those Nate had seen in the storehouse lay scattered here and there on the room’s periphery, dozens of small flat items spilling from them, fanning across the cold black floor. Thom squatted to retrieve a handful of the tiny, colorful disks, letting them slip through his fingers back to the floor like glittering drops of water.

“Data records.” Bithia’s attention was drawn by the sound. “But those were the most precious thing to my father and his team. He’d never leave such things in disorder and upheaval. And why were people dismantling the lab? And so haphazardly?”
 

Nate hoped they weren’t going to come upon more corpses. He didn’t think Bithia was ready for murder mysteries involving people she knew. The destruction of the lab appeared to be upsetting her enough. “So this isn’t the condition the room was in the last time you were here?”

“Not at all. If the staff was going to take the time to disassemble the fixtures and box the records, why didn’t anyone come to the healing chamber and set me free? I was so close, one hall away. How could they have done all this work in here and not bothered to come for me?” Bithia’s voice faltered. “What happened? To my father? Why was the work stopped before it was complete?”

Nate took her by the shoulders, turning her to face him. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. “We’ll probably never know. Maybe ignorance is for the best, all things considered. There must have been reasons, probably good ones, in their minds.” He cut off her protest with a shake of the head. “I realize the concept’s a hard thing for you to accept. I know the events happened just yesterday for you, or a few days ago in conscious time, but it’s been thousands of years here. Even if we had the answers, knowledge wouldn’t bring your father and your friends back. We have to concentrate on the here and now, and it’s essential we escape the city without delay.”

“I—I know you’re right. It’s hard to—to accept, to take it in.” Bithia raised one hand to her eyes and dashed away the welling tears. “When I dreamed of leaving that cursed device, I visualized myself walking through the door and finding things as I left them. My father, my friends, the team I came here with—” Breaking off, she shut her eyes as if in pain. “I understood the impossibility of my dream, but the last thing I expected to find would be this mad chaos.” She leaned against Nate, face set in a pained expression, and assessed the disorder surrounding her. “It’s too chaotic to even know what to touch first to set things back to rights.” She laughed ruefully, staring into Nate’s face. “And there’s no need for me to take on the task in any event. Of all the ridiculous things to think about, given our real problems—”

“Clothes, ma’am? I believe you wanted to change?” Thom said helpfully, as if a more mundane subject might ease the tension.

Bithia seemed grateful for the distraction. She regarded her beautiful, but inappropriate, lavender nightgown with disfavor, plucking at its pleats with her left hand.

“My private meditation compartment is across the lab and on the hall to the left. My clothes should be there. I don’t want to be escaping across the length and breadth of Talonque in the nightgown I’ve worn for centuries. Come on.” Bithia led the way, keeping one hand clasped in Nate’s.

Atletl and Celixia trailed them, curious but apparently not impressed. This room held none of the flashy mysteries of the healing chamber, only piles of strange equipment and scattered bins and incomprehensible data records. A strong sense of complete and final abandonment hung in the lab. It was like a gigantic broken puzzle, missing pieces and impossible to reassemble. There was nothing there to hold any of them, save Bithia, and she was trying hard to focus on the actual needs of the moment. Through their link, Nate sensed her grief and anxiety under the relatively calm surface she was maintaining.

“Are you doing okay?” he asked, bending to speak privately to her. “You’re favoring your right leg. Are you in pain?”

Bithia laughed ruefully. “Habit. My leg was so damaged by the tolokon venom before I went into the healing chamber that I could barely stand. I’m used to limping.”

She keyed the open symbol to let them into the farthest left portal of four set into the opposite wall. The eexit led to another short corridor, lined on both sides with small rooms, like whitewashed monks’ cells. The door to each was gaping open. As he passed, Nate could see all the rooms were empty and featureless, as if freshly constructed and yet to be used.

“Samia’s, Tedesk’s, Rebehr’s—” As she walked, Bithia recited the litany of who’d claimed each room in her time.

“What was this area for?” Nate asked, trying to interrupt her stream of consciousness about her lost friends and colleagues. “Temporary quarters?”

“Yes, I think I told you our main base was in the mountains. This facility in Nochen was for field research, so we all had our own small space to keep a few things while we worked on assignment in the area. I could catch a nap between duties, meditate, be private with another person if I so desired. But I don’t understand why my team’s possessions are cleared out, as if everyone left had time to pack but didn’t come release me.” She walked faster, stopping in front of the only closed door.

Bithia freed her hand from Nate’s and tapped a quick sequence of musical notes across one of the pearlescent disks on the massive bracelet circling her left wrist.

“What is that thing?” Nate asked. “I figured it for a piece of jewelry, but if you’re using it to open doors, it must be more than a gaudy bauble.”

“Much more than mere adornment.” The mere suggestion seemed to strike Bithia as highly amusing. She extended her left hand to him so he could examine the device more closely. Thom leaned over Nate’s shoulder to see better. Amused, Nate stifled a chuckle. His ever-practical friend had no interest in jewelry, but technology drew him like a moth to flame.

“It’s a gilintrae,” Bithia said. “We all have our own, of varying degrees of sophistication and usefulness. My father gave me this when I graduated from the final set of advanced classes required to be accredited for a field expedition. It’s one of the best, much better than what I had to use as a student.”

Gently, Nate manipulated her wrist to see all the detail. The face of the braceletlike device was approximately three inches in diameter, he estimated, and covered with densely packed, miniature iridescent disks, like scales on a fantastic fish. There were three smaller dials at equidistant points on the main surface outlined with a thin rim of gold, each set with a different precious stone. A string of roughly one-carat diamonds outlined the edge of the face, nestled side by side in an unbroken string. A ring of even bigger diamonds, interspersed with gems he didn’t recognize, was set into the heavy gold outer rim. On the left and right sides, sat three tiny sapphire-topped buttons, each a different geometric shape. The massive golden band holding the gilintrae snugly on her slender wrist was an interlocking series of flat plates, each inscribed with a different symbol.