WOLF DAWN: Science Fiction Thriller/ Romance (Forsaken Worlds) (10 page)

“But …”

“No,” he interrupted. “I’m in the position to confirm what happened and to do something about it.” In a milder tone he added, “I’ll come to Kalar after that.”

“I’m afraid for you.”

“Don’t be,” he said, dismissing her concern. “I can take care of myself.”

“You don’t understand. I think that someone in the United Worlds Government is responsible.”

Larren stiffened. More and more she was reminding him of the woman in the Alliance. Linetta had said, “Don’t forget me,” and then she had taken her own life right in front of him. He asked casually, “What makes you think so?”

“I know you find it hard to believe, but before we left Delian I mind-touched an off-worlder from the battleship
Conqueror
…”

“
Conqueror
had something to do with this?” Larren interrupted. “She’s a Fleet vessel. How do you know it was her?”

“Icom tracked her arrival.” She bit her lip. “My husband, Jarith, mind-touched Admiral Neopol Jones. I didn’t. But Jarith said that the man is filled with hate. He was hurt and betrayed as a child somehow … I don’t know the details. Behind his hate is fear. He is afraid. In truth he is quite mad. In his mind the only way he will feel safe is to either control or destroy everyone. He is well connected and dangerous. I’m afraid he’ll kill you.”

“Sartha, I doubt if this man Neopol and I will even meet. He’ll never find out about you or Ash.”

Sartha remained silent, worrying her lip.

Larren stood up and began to dress. “Once I obtain proof of his actions, of Delian’s destruction, then all I need do is pass that confirmation on. After that, every patrol vessel in the known galaxy will be after him. He can’t fight us all. Don’t worry about me,” he said, buckling on his belt and holster and putting on his cap.

Larren could see that she was still concerned. He reached over and kissed her lightly. “Don’t even think about it,” he said with boyish charm. “I’m not that easy to kill.”

“I know. I’ve seen your scars.”

Larren was amazed at the attraction that she held for him.
Yes, she does remind me of Linetta,
he decided. Somehow he knew that old nightmare of his would no longer haunt him, for he had finally discovered the truth. It was clear now why the incident with Linetta had been so disquieting, so lasting and painful. Now he understood the reason for that unforgettable vision’s persistence. In the few moments he had been with Linetta he had admired her wild and desperate beauty, as well as her courageous, unyielding spirit. Now he loved Sartha and their situations were similar. What had happened? Could the same person be responsible for the disasters to both Linetta’s homeworld and Sartha’s Delian?

Sartha tilted her head with a considering look. “Yes, Linetta and I are similar, are we not? Alike in many ways.”

Larren’s eyes widened. “Can you read my mind all the time?”

“It was an educated guess,” Sartha laughed in reply. “I know about Linetta and I now know you well. That expression on your face. I just thought that might be what you were doing: comparing me with Linetta. You were so young then, Larren, so idealistic. In those few compressed moments in time when you confronted the real possibility of death at Linetta’s hands … well, you lived a lifetime in those moments. Every second was more acute with the shadow of death before you. You really saw Linetta in that instant of time — her beauty, her spirit, her passion and determination — and you fell in love with her. That old nightmare will not bother you now that you know the truth. Perhaps, from this moment on, will have pleasant dreams of me instead?”

Larren snorted and Sartha giggled. He hugged her, and she hugged him back in complete accord. Unexpectedly Larren held her away from him. “What am I thinking now?”

Sartha raised her eyebrows curiously. It was obvious that she had no idea.

“Ha!” he said. He picked up her slim form and spun her around, kissing her soundly. “That settles that. You don’t know everything.” Chuckling with satisfaction, he set her down. “I’d better be on my way. Do you need supplies? Anything?

“No, we have all that is necessary,” she replied. “We have a plot to the nearest Omni corridor.” A little line formed between her brows. “Shall I find Ash, so you can meet him?”

“No.” Larren rubbed his chin. “It’s too dangerous. I don’t want anyone to know about him, including my own crew. It’s not worth the risk — I don’t want anyone to know he’s on board.” He shook his head. “And I have stayed too long already.”

Sartha frowned, worried.

“The sooner you leave, the sooner I’ll visit you on Kalar.”

She brightened. “All right, but Larren …” She paused. “I just want to thank you.” She tipped her head up, rose, and gave him a kiss. “To thank you for everything.”

“Thank
me
? I should thank you.”

Larren rested his forehead against hers for a moment, breathed in deeply and shut his eyes. When he pulled back they stood face to face, holding hands.

“No, you don’t understand,” Sartha said. She turned her head away. “Before you came, I had no reason to continue. I planned to ensure that Ash was trained and safe, but I didn’t think I could live, not with the burden of my loss.” She looked down as if ashamed. “I don’t know that I would have done it. There were so many dreams — nightmares, really. I had become quite preoccupied with the idea. I was going to end my life as soon as my responsibilities were fulfilled.”

Larren stared at her.

Sartha raised her eyes to his. “You see, Linetta and I were much alike.” She nodded. “So, thank you.”

Larren drew her to him, folding her in his arms. Delians were known to be a passionate race, subject to overwhelming emotions. He understood that, now. But suicide? At least he had been able to prevent that. He recalled their mind-touch together, the naked exposure of them both, heart and soul. This woman saw him, and knew him as no one had before, nor ever would again. He hugged her with sudden urgency, his voice deep. “I’m the one who now has a reason for living. I’ll get to Kalar. Nothing can stop me, I swear it. It’ll take five or six months at the most. Tell Ash I look forward to meeting him. And Sartha,” he said, “will you wait for me?”

“I will wait,” she replied, her face grave. “But impatiently,” she added, with mischief in her eyes. They laughed again. Then, arm in arm, they strolled to the door of the room, not yet opening it.

Larren hesitated. “I forgot,” he said. “My security officers!”

With hands over their mouths, they chuckled like errant children.

“Well,” he said, “we had better keep up the pretense.”

“Of course, Larren.”

“For the love of the Goddess — don’t call me Larren in front of my men.”

She giggled and shook her head. He smiled broadly and snickered, too. When they were both composed, he opened the door. Standing straight backed, head high, the Captain gestured imperiously for Sartha to enter the room where his officers watched and waited. Captain Forseth was very much master of the situation.

“Yes, Lady,” he began. “There is no doubt about it. The inspection has proved satisfactory.
Most satisfactory
.” He stressed the last few words.

The Lady Sartha’s demeanor was demure and subdued, her head gracefully inclined. “I am pleased to have been of assistance.”

“Goodbye then, Lady Sartha.”

“Goodbye, Captain Forseth,” she said. “Gentlemen.” She nodded to his officers.

The two men turned to follow their Captain. Sartha watched them leave. As one of the officers began to close the lock of
Assurance
she was just able to spot Larren peering through the open portal. He gave her a small grin, a conspiratorial wink, and then the door closed. He was gone.

Sartha walked toward navigation, feeling a burst of hope for the future.
Yes, Freeworlds Police Captain Larren Forseth is a capable man,
she thought. She had seen every scar on his lean frame; they each told a story. The angry burn on his arm that he had tried to hide and that, unbelievably, he had been embarrassed by, as though he were ashamed of his own vulnerability. Placing little importance on vanity, he had never gotten around to cosmetically repairing any damage, although medical attention was freely available in the service. Fifteen years on the front lines and he had survived every encounter. He was indeed hard to kill.

He would survive, and he would come to Kalar. She now felt quite certain of it.

M
alcolm Drake,
Darla Wu’s
pilot, sat at his console with an anxious frown. His features softened with relief as the Captain and his security officers re-boarded.
Forsaken Worlds,
he thought. Drake had spoken to Security via Icom, but they had been gone for hours.

“Whatever took so long?” he blurted, then added, “Sir?”

His Captain, clearly preoccupied, didn’t notice, continuing his even pace across the Bridge. “Oh, nothing. Routine ship inspection is all.”

Drake glanced at Mathes, who rolled his eyes to the ceiling.

Hmm. Drake considered. It was like that, was it? He shook his head. Lucky devil — and while on duty. Not like the Captain at all. The pilot thought back to the picture of Lady Sartha that was tucked away in his back pocket. He had had the computer do a holoshot of her. Quite the looker she was, too.

Drake shifted, reaching for the picture of Lady Sartha. He had planned on getting an extrapolation of her naked. It would have been just the thing to cheer up the heterosexual half of
Darla’s
crew, hanging in the mess. Actually it would probably cheer up anyone of any sexual orientation, the woman was so striking. But now it wasn’t such a good idea.

The pilot drew the picture from his pocket. Joining the captain on the bridge, he gave it to him. “For you, sir. Excuse me taking the liberty. Thought you might like it.”

Larren took the picture, his pleasure obvious. “Thank you, pilot. Thank you very much.”

With considerable difficulty Drake hid his shock. The Captain had fallen for the woman. For the love of lost worlds! She was Royal and she was married.

“You’re welcome, sir,” the pilot shrugged, his voice prudently neutral.

Larren put the holoshot in his breast pocket. “Prepare for departure, pilot. We’re good to go.”

“Yes, sir,” Drake said, moving purposefully at the controls.

“I’ll be in my quarters,” Larren said.

C
aptain Larren Forseth walked down a corridor and into his room. He wanted to be alone with his thoughts. He wanted to think about
her.

He took the photo of the Lady Sartha from his breast pocket, and studied it, memorizing every part of her. It was a full frontal shot, and she was dressed formally, as a Queen. She was amazing. When he had time he would look though Icom for any other pictures of her, and of her husband and son. Larren felt a pang of sadness for Jarith, the dead king — he had been a good man. He also felt affection for her son, Ashton. These were Sartha’s memories and emotions, but they had combined and become an integral part of how he felt. It was so strange. After being in her mind, Jarith and Ashton felt like family to him now.

From his quarters Larren could hear only the soft hum of power generation. He mentally toggled observation and a screen appeared, affording him a clear view of
Assurance
. He stopped and looked on as the two vessels separated, watching
Assurance
drift slowly apart from
Darla Wu.
He felt a sharp pang of anxiety, but thrust it away.

Goodbye and good fortune to you both
, Larren thought. Sartha and her son would be safe. He wouldn’t have left them otherwise.

Walking to his bedroom console, Captain Forseth sat down and began to compose a message for HC, telling them of their new course, and the unsubstantiated report of Delian’s destruction. When the message was safely gone, along with
Assurance
, he would call his pilot to his quarters and confide in him. His best friend, Malcolm Drake, could keep a secret, though he wouldn’t mention Sartha’s son or their destination of Kalar to him. He wouldn’t mention that to anyone.

Assurance
engaged her engines, and was moving away faster now. Good. After speaking to Drake, he would notify the crew of the unverified report concerning Delian. Their mission now would be to execute standard reconnaissance of that Freeworld.

He sat back in his chair.

Larren’s jaw clenched as he grimly considered a number of possibilities. Was there a conspiracy? If the Fleet was involved, this was a dangerous mission indeed. His stomach tightened. And if he was killed, who would help Sartha and her son?

He would survive,
he thought, pushing his fears away.
He must.

Mind-touch is a healing tool used to relieve the Dark Sankomin. To be in another Delian’s mind and body without agreement is illegal, proof of which may result in lawful death. There are possible exceptions in unusual and specific circumstances, or during training or special need. These instances must be cleared afterwards by council. To violate another’s privacy is sordid. It is never done.

Chief Justice Stephen Bryan,
The Interpretations

S
artha stared anxiously out the observation window. They were too vulnerable. She would only relax once they entered Omni, where
Conqueror
could not find them.

Assurance
continued through the velvet black of normal space, carrying the Lady Sartha and her son toward the nearest Omni corridor. At least one good thing had occurred as a result of
Assurance
unintentionally leaving Omni Space — she had met Larren Forseth. While she would always know the loss of her people and her love, she was glad to have been healed by him from the soul-destroying despair of the Dark Sankomin. Sartha smiled at the thought of the police Captain, recalling his good-natured humor. Larren would arrive at Delian soon and his life could be in danger.
May the Goddess protect you, Larren Forseth,
she prayed.
You who are not Trueborn but when with me can become so.

With Larren’s future safely in the hands of Jana, Sartha noted
Assurance’s
position. They were making good time, despite an unexpected venture through an asteroid field. Ash would complete his training on Kalar. He would have the Testimonials memorized soon, and then he could read the Interpretations. With intensive practice and study, he could master Trueborn knowledge and duties over the next two years. They could protect each other then, healing themselves from the Dark Sankomin.

“Hello, mother.”

Sartha jumped. “Ash, you frightened me, slipping up from behind like that.”

“Sorry,” he said, his words almost inaudible.

Sartha covertly studied her son. Ash looked like a plant that had been living without light or water. His springy thirteen-year-old enthusiasm had disappeared. Over the last two days he had hardly eaten and Sartha had barely seen him, as he preferred to stay in his room. He was engaged in Icom gaming and repeatedly stated that he wished to be left alone. Ash hated it when she pressed him about his health, but she knew something was wrong.

“Are you feeling better today?” Sartha asked, with a calmness she didn’t feel. He had no fever and hadn’t complained of any specific pain or symptom, yet he certainly didn’t look well.

“Fine. Shall we continue training?”

“Of course.” Sartha smiled. He must be feeling better if he wanted to study. She immediately went to the security console and took out the golden volume. Ash’s face lightened a little at the sight of it.

Good,
Sartha thought with satisfaction. Perhaps after a taste of the Interpretations, which he had wanted to read for so long, he would be back to his old self. “Come and sit here with me, at the table.” She smiled, patting the chair nearest her own. Ash came and sat down, but he chose to sit opposite her.

Sartha opened the Testimonials. “I’m ready,” she announced.

Ash began to recite, “
Hate crushes the power …”
However, after only a few short lines, it was evident to both that he had forgotten many of the words, and could no longer even vaguely repeat them to his prior standard.

“Ash, where has your concentration gone?” Sartha remembered that he seemed unwell, and felt instantly contrite. “Never mind,” she consoled. “I’ll help you run through; you’ll get your memory back.”

“I’d rather practice by myself,” Ash mumbled sullenly. His tone bordered on the discourteous.

Sartha stood and went to him. Her son was never ill mannered. “Ash, what’s bothering you?” she asked, placing her hands on his shoulders.

He jerked away from her touch. “Nothing.”

She had had enough. Two days of it, in fact. Whatever was his problem? Well, it was time to get to the bottom of it. “Something is bothering you and I want to know what it is.”

“There isn’t anything wrong with
me
,” Ash stressed the last word. Face flushed in anger, he glared at her with hard, cold eyes: two dark stones that seemed to cut right through her. “Why don’t you just read my mind and find out?”

Sartha felt the blood leave her face as Ash’s words hit her in the chest with the force of a clenched fist. She was shocked at his implied accusation. To steal someone’s thoughts would violate the most sacred vows and beliefs of Delian. How could he suggest such a thing? While it was common to monitor off-worlders, as no one knew what they might do, it was considered depraved to see another Delian’s thoughts without consent. There were hundreds of Delian morality tales adjuring such a violation of privacy. Culturally it was as vile a crime as premeditated murder.

With effort, she managed to keep a bland expression and said, “Ash, do you want me to touch your mind?”

He jumped up instantly, as if burnt.
“
No. I don’t want your touch.
Not now — not ever!”
he shouted, and ran down the ship’s corridor to his quarters.

Sartha stood staring in disbelief. Listening intently, she thought she could hear Ash crying. Why wouldn’t he confide in her? What could a thirteen-year-old boy do that he couldn’t tell his mother?

Two people alone in space were already an unusual circumstance, even more unusual due to the dangerous situation they were in. Neopol and
Conqueror
were out there, searching for them. And she and her son must be in full agreement and harmony when they arrived on Kalar — to arrive otherwise would court disaster. This was an exception and a time of special need. There was only one thing to do, she decided, her jaw set. As Ash’s mother, to heal him she would have to touch him without his permission.

Having made the decision Sartha didn’t wait. She sat down and shut her eyes, reaching out. With an unpredicted jolt, Sartha touched Ash. She was overwhelmed with a storm of tumult and upheaval. His thoughts were whirling, thick, and heavy.

Sartha physically recoiled with shock and surprise. Ash, her quiet and obedient son, the loving child she had never once had to raise her voice to, hated her and wished she were dead. He planned to escape the moment that they reached Kalar. He wanted to finish his training before then so that nothing would stop him from leaving her as soon as possible. Never before had Sartha encountered such fierce hostility — toward
her!
She lost her grip on Ash’s mind.

Sartha sat still for some time, dazed.

Her wits returned and she ordered up two hot chocolates; all the while her mind was busy with explanations. Perhaps Ash had somehow guessed the truth about his father and had blamed his death on her? No, he couldn’t hide that knowledge, she was certain. Yet he was caught in the grip of the Dark Sankomin. What trigger had brought it on? Perhaps Ash had, without her consent, mind-touched her?

Sartha caught her breath at the thought. great

Could he? He had only touched her mind on one occasion, while under close supervision. Ash was capable of enormous psychic power — he was a great deal stronger than she was, but his was an untrained gift. Even if he was able to touch her, would he actually do it? Sartha swallowed, revolted. The thought was so abhorrent that her stomach twisted and she almost gagged. For a moment she thought she might actually throw up.

She rubbed her face, wondering how any Delian could consider violating such an inflexible moral convention. In early times, people found to be reading other Delian’s minds without consent were killed out of hand. Who could forget Prime Minister Batalov the thrice damned? His High Office didn’t save him or his entire family when it was found that he had been reading the thoughts of others.

First he had been damned through the loss of his wife. After she died he neglected to seek another’s help, to provide himself with healing mind-touch. This let him to become blocked and burdened by the Dark Sankomin, where he lost control of his mind and his sanity. He had no insight into his condition and deluded himself into thinking he was mentally well. In fact, in his diaries he wrote that he thought himself a God, so completely had his mind been overwhelmed.

Thus he was secondly damned through the madness that came to him when he avoided all healing mind-touch. For how could someone allow a personal touch of their mind when they were intentionally committing crimes? The odd thing was that there was no sign. The man was articulate, cultured and educated — one of those rare people capable of concealing madness.

Thirdly, he was damned by violating strict moral convention. He used his powers to forward his career and achieve his personal goals, his own personal gain. He read the thoughts of hundreds of people and kept a comprehensive diary. When this diary was found, and the details disseminated through broad Icom report, the reaction was like setting off an incendiary device in an ordnance depot.

The mob that gathered when his offenses were exposed was merciless. Prime Minister Batalov and all four of his children, each under fifteen years old, as well as his housekeeper, cook, and a maid, were all killed. The mob virtually tore them apart. His home was set alight and burned to the ground, along with five other homes nearby. Batalov died in a town called Callasburg, which shortly after changed its name to Bannock after the Prime Minister that replaced him. To this day Delians were known to say during a crisis, “It could be worse. Don’t forget Callasburg.”

Crime could never be hidden on Delian, not when lawful orders allowed authorized persons to see into the mind of the accused. When a population’s only sanctuary from madness was through mind-touch, what wouldn’t one be willing to do to those who violated such security? As in all things Delian, passions ruled. Criminals were lucky to live long enough to be lawfully killed. Those convicted were allowed to choose a self-delivered lethal injection or death by starvation.

Sartha felt ill at the idea of anyone peering into her mind without her agreement. Was it possible? If so, how could Ash justify it? Yet it certainly explained his irrational behavior. Had he read her mind without permission? She had to know, but she was too distressed to mind-touch. For now there was only one way to find the truth.

She took the two drinks from the auto-chef. Then, with clenched teeth, she strode down the hall of
Assurance
. Sartha went to her son, hoping to soothe him with a peace offering of hot chocolate.

Ash was lying on his bunk, his face dark. He sat up but didn’t look at her when she tapped on his door and walked through to his bed. Sartha handed him the cup. He took it, but gave no thanks and made no effort to drink it. He ended by putting it on the bedside table.

“Son of Jarith,” she began, her voice soft and reasonable, “you will someday be King. A king cannot refuse the healing power of mind-touch.”

“I will not refuse the power of mind-touch,” he replied. “I just don’t want to be touched by you.”

“What is wrong with me?” she demanded, incensed by the insult. He was a child —
her
child and he needed discipline.

Ash stood up and faced her, his dark eyes fierce and a little wild, his pale skin flushed. His movement caused the cup of hot chocolate to fall to the floor, but neither Sartha nor her son noticed. “What is wrong with you? I’ll tell you what is wrong with you. You are a traitor to my father, the King of Delian. You are not honest nor pure nor worthy to be King’s Consort. You’re no better than an off-world whore!”

Sartha stared in disbelief. She gripped the edge of the bunk, lest she fall.

Ash drew in a long breath, his overwhelming passion burning him, consuming him. “I’m ashamed you are my mother. I wish I’d never been born!” He threw himself on his bunk, curled up into fetal position, and began to weep with racking sobs and gulps, his tears flowing unchecked.

Sartha sat down heavily, as if someone had pushed her. Shaken, stunned, she felt unable to breathe. Her poor son. For the love of the Goddess. He must have mind-touched her when she was with Larren Forseth. She forced the implications of that idea away, unwilling for the moment to look further at what that involved.

No wonder he thought she had betrayed him and his father, she realized, piecing it all together. She had no idea how he had done it, but it was clear that he had. Astonishing. Such a powerful gift in the body of a child. Poor Ash. He is burdened with an even greater wrong than my assumed unfaithfulness. He had committed the immoral act of mind-touch without permission
on me.
She trembled at the thought. How could he have done it? When it was against everything that he had ever been taught?

No matter what he had done, her son needed her now. Sartha shifted closer, and put a hand out, touching him on his shoulder.

He shrank back.
“Get away from me,” he said.

“No, Ashton, we must talk.”

He sat up and turned toward her. “And what shall we talk about,
mother?
” He spoke the word like an obscenity. “Perhaps you would like to explain that you were using your body as payment, so we could continue our journey to Kalar? I suppose it’s the Freeworlds Police who are after us?” His voice rang with sarcasm.