Second Don: Ardulum, Book 2 Read online

  Don’t your family members tell you when they come to visit? he asked.

  No visits, another voice said. Arik recognized it as Kisak, the first of the group to have spoken to him. A short, wide gatoi nodded in Arik’s direction. Zir black hair was cropped closely to zir head, face deeply etched in wrinkles that highlighted the dark tint. No visits—no visitors. Just us and the scientists.

  Waiketh tapped Arik on the arm and gave him a reassuring smile when he turned back to her. Kisak is old and nearing the end of zir third don. Forgive zir temperament.

  Arik thoughts went to his talther. The idea of zir dying alone in a plastic lab, away from the forests and the trees zie had worked with zir own parents, was incomprehensible. The gatoi sex was so rare that each was to be cherished—ones who decided to have children that much more. Arik had to look away from Kisak. He was too afraid he’d see his talther’s face reflected back.

  Waiketh’s hand clasped his shoulder. We’re in a big lab. The scientists and healers won’t give any answers, and no one who has tried to escape has ever come back. We’re fed, clothed, and experimented on. That’s all we know for certain.

  We don’t even know what is wrong with us? Arik asked. He kept his head down, eyes on the floor.

  What makes you so sure there is something wrong? Kisak spat back. Zie pointed to the ceiling. They’re afraid of us—the Eld are. We’ve more Talents than them, so they keep us locked up.

  Calm, Kisak, Waiketh soothed. To Arik, she added, Conspiracies. Mind went a few years back, but the body keeps on going.

  Kisak stood angrily, launched a cushion at Waiketh, and stormed out of the common area. Arik watched zir go, unsure if he could help. To die in a place like this… Arik would be angry, too. To die without the opportunity to have children was that much worse.

  The other Ardulans turned back to their private conversations or plastic tablets.

  We have a lot of time to think in here, Waiketh explained when Arik looked at her. It’s hard to not use your Talents, especially since we have so many. Combine that with a small living space and the medicine we’re all on, and, well, you can see how it might affect people.

  Kisak’s wrinkled face hung in Arik’s mind, zir age and isolation. On top of that was Waiketh’s pending metamorphosis, alone, in their synthetic prison. Arik could feel the presence of the other Ardulans trying to reassure him, to comfort him. He didn’t want it. He didn’t want their despair, their hopelessness, their abandoned selves. He wouldn’t just slouch like an old, tattered doll in an armchair.

  I’m getting out of here, he whispered to himself, trying not to leak into the others’ minds. A headache threatened, the presences in his mind suddenly overwhelming. Arik stood and headed back to his room. His footsteps began to feel heavy as he crossed the remaining floor and opened the door. His bed looked inviting. The nightmare of less than an hour before seemed distant, too, and not as threatening. He fell onto the bed face-first and closed his eyes.

  Immediately, sounds of birdsong fluttered past. He felt a breeze play across his face, its coolness lifting the hairs on his arms. The bed was becoming firmer, slightly prickly. Arik opened his right eye and saw that he was once again lying on the forest floor instead of a bed, several blades of grass sticking into his nose.

  With the headache extinguished but the fatigue still present, Arik decided he didn’t care where he slept, as long as he slept. Unconcerned about his sudden change in venue, he closed his eyes, pillowed his head in the crook of one arm, and fell asleep.

  Chapter 5: Outskirts of Alliance Space

  Three hundred and fifteen ships spanning eleven Alliance worlds have massed near Risal, hiding just outside Alliance borders. Communicate to all Alliance territories—the Risalian Markin are willing to share their knowledge with us. Now is the time to break away from Ardulan rule. Now is the time to destroy the Ardulans!

  —Communication from dissident Alliance fleet, Third Month of Arath, 26_15

  “WE’RE IN ORBIT around an inhabited world,” Emn said right before passing out.

  “Damn it!” Neek and Nicholas both ran to her, but did not manage to catch her before her head hit the floor with a dull thud.

  “Emn?” Nicholas helped ease the younger woman’s head into Neek’s lap. Maroon blood trickled from her ears and nose, and Neek cursed again. This is what she got for ignoring things, for ignoring Emn. The Ardulan was going to kill herself on this damned foolish mission, and it was going to be all Neek’s fault, because she was too wrapped up in her own head to notice that Emn…that Emn… Argh!

  “Go grab a scanner from the mess. We might be able to—”

  “I’m fine.” Emn’s eyes fluttered open, and she groaned while pushing Neek’s hands away from her face. “Really. Just a little overloaded. I borrowed some cellulose from the ship, and I’m fine now.”

  “Emn—” Nicholas began, but Neek cut him off.

  “You are not fine. Why didn’t you tell me what the generator would do to you?”

  Emn sat up and turned to face Neek. She wiped the blood away with the back of her hand. When Neek held out a cloth, offering it to her, Emn didn’t take it. Instead, she tilted her head, looking at Neek reproachfully. “Why didn’t you ask?”

  Just like a jab to the gut. Neek’s stuk thinned, and she tried to discretely wipe it on the back of her pants. “Because I’m an idiot, okay?” she muttered.

  Nicholas stood and offered Emn a boost, which she took. “That was almost an apology,” he said, smirking at Neek. “Careful. You’ll set a dangerous precedent.”

  “Could we focus back on space?” Neek asked. Privately, mostly so Nicholas wouldn’t rib her, Neek asked Emn, Are you sure you are okay?

  The response that came back had far more bite than Neek expected. No, I’m not, but it has nothing to do with the generator. Let’s figure out where we are and you and I can talk later? Emn’s tone lightened and turned delicate. Please?

  Neek was still debating how to respond when a blue and white planet swam into focus on the viewscreen. Neek hadn’t expected the generator to be so…instantaneous. She stood, mouth agape, as the planet grew steadily larger across the viewscreen. Nicholas stood next to her, shifting from one foot to the other with nervous energy. Her stuk was threatening a dance of its own on her fingertips, so Neek shoved her hands into her pockets. The last thing they needed was more bodily fluid on that ridiculous floor.

  On the viewscreen, a silver space station hung just between the planet and its first moon. It was an ungainly thing, with ramps, ports, and what looked like protruding habitat spheres attached to its cubed surface. The station was slowly spinning, although its rotation was not uniform as the entire structure shifted between axes every few minutes. A handful of ships, mostly of the same design, were either docked, or in the process of docking or departing.

  “Any chance…” Neek began, her voice slightly shrill. “Any chance that this is Ardulum?”

  “How would we know if it was?” Nicholas inquired. “Does it look like Ardulum? From an old painting or something, maybe?” He pointed to one of the small, star-shaped skiffs passing in front of the pod’s view. “We could just ask.”

  “That’s probably better than me asking the ship.” Emn turned to the interface and swayed, her legs threatening to give way.

  Cursing her own uselessness, Neek steadied Emn with an arm around her waist. Neek pulled out a raw andal twig from her pocket, the remains of their supply, and handed to Emn. She’d meant to cook it this morning, offer it as a sort of peace gesture between them, but they’d run out of fuel for the portable cookstove Chen had given them. Now, all she had was a tiny, gnarled stick of springwood that Emn would have to gnaw on to eat. It wasn’t exactly the reconciliation Neek had intended.

  Emn took the andal, gave Neek a tired smile, and leaned into her, taking advantage of the support she provided. “Thank you,” she said lightly as she bit into the twig and began to chew. “All I know is that we are in a solar system, and the pl
anet does have two moons, so it seems a little unlikely this is Ardulum. It must just be Keft like the coordinates said.”

  Emn’s color was starting to return as she swallowed, but she stayed leaning heavily against Neek’s side. Unsure of what else to do, Neek moistened the cloth with her stuk and wiped dried blood from Emn’s arms. She would let Emn clean her own face this time. The images that had tumbled between them from Emn’s broken nose still lingered and didn’t need any encouragement.

  “We should at least land.” Nicholas assessed Emn. “We could get some fast print, maybe get off the ship for a while. Take a break. Maybe they know where we could look next.”

  A break seemingly appealed to Emn, too. Relief washed into Neek’s mind as she finished wiping the first arm, folded the cloth inside out, and moved on to Emn’s right. There was more texture to Emn’s skin than Neek had anticipated, each dark vein embossed on the surface. Her fingers strayed without her realizing, and Neek brushed a thumb across the inside of Emn’s wrist, tracing the braided circles. Emn’s pulse quickened, the beat strong under Neek’s thumb. Realizing what she was doing, Neek brought the cloth back between them, as if nothing had happened.

  “Would you mind?” Emn asked. She flipped her arm, exposing her wrist, and Neek hastily resumed cleaning. “It would be a nice break from the travesty of Nugel architecture.” And I don’t mind your touch.

  “Done,” Neek said hurriedly. She steadied Emn, shoved the cloth into her pocket, and backed away to the wall. It was suddenly uncomfortably warm in the cockpit.

  “I agree,” Nicholas said. “What do you, say, Captain?” He saluted.

  Neek winced despite Nicholas’s obvious attempt to lighten the atmosphere. The title cut too close on several counts. Yorden was—had been—a captain. Neek didn’t have the temperament or the experience for such a job, although she and Yorden had certainly joked about her inheriting the Pledge one day. No, she was a would-be Heaven Guard pilot, currently useless on a ship she couldn’t even fly. She was passably decent with a knife and gun, only one of which she had with her on the pod. That was it. She certainly was not qualified to be in charge of this operation.

  “Could we hold off on the captain title for a while?” Neek tugged at the right pocket of her flight suit, managing to avoid everyone’s eyes. “I just…I can’t. Yorden…and Emn…”

  Emn reached for her hand, but Neek flinched away. There didn’t need to be so much damn touching, especially with soft cloths and women who filled out dresses a little too well. This was why she needed to be in her room. Alone. She was turning into a jabbering idiot.

  Nicholas leaned against the black panel and shook his head. “Christ, Neek,” he muttered. “You’ve got to get this figured out.”

  “Neek?” Emn asked. “What do you want to do?”

  “Whether or not the populace has any knowledge of Ardulum is questionable, but I think—” Neek cast a glance at Nicholas. “—that we could all use a break. A real break, on solid ground. We need to relax.”

  Relax. She hadn’t done that since the Neek government quarantined them on the beaches of her home province. Memories drifted to the forefront of her thoughts. Nicholas and Emn played in the surf. Yorden debated upgrades to a ship that was to be blown apart hours after leaving her homeworld. A smile threatened. As horrible as it had been to visit Neek after such a long time away and not even get to see her family, to be tormented by Heaven Guard trainees and their settee drills, to watch the Pledge disintegrate around her, that time was the closest Neek had come to happiness in…well, longer than she cared to admit. Maybe there’d be something similar on the planet—a resort, a beach…hell, even a bar. They could sit together, talk about something other than Mmnnuggl schematics and Ardulan folktales. Maybe Nicholas could wander off to join whatever was the equivalent of Journey youths in the Alliance, and she and Emn could—

  A small, green light began to blink on the panel. Emn brought one hand back to the interface and frowned. “We’re being hailed. There is a ship just out of our current field of view requesting a visual connection. I’ll put them on audio so you can talk to them, Captain. I mean, Neek. Sorry.”

  Fuck. They couldn’t keep walking on eggshells. Neek ran her hands down her crumpled flight suit, pulling out a crease in the leg and hastily wiping off the excess stuk onto her pants. Attempting to hide her emotions on her clothes was futile, but that didn’t keep her from trying.

  Neek straightened, fingertips dry for the moment. “A standard greeting is a good place to start.”

  “Doesn’t that require a ship name?” Nicholas whispered to her. “Captain.”

  “Audio is on,” Emn responded.

  Neek managed a seething glare at Nicholas after the comm clicked. “Greetings and good journey to you, fellow travelers. We of the…” She glanced around quickly from Emn to Nicholas, neither of whom offered any help. “Of the…tramp ship Yorden Kuebrich,” Neek sputtered, “from the planets Earth and Neek, wish you the best of luck in your chosen endeavors.” After another pause, she nodded to Emn to cut the audio. Nicholas slapped her on the back.

  “Nice name,” he said enthusiastically. “I think Yorden would appreciate the honor of having a stolen ship named after him.”

  “That’s what I was thinking. Glory seekers or renegades, Yorden would have enjoyed both. He never forgave the Systems for their rotten peace treaties.” Neek turned back to the console as the unknown ship moved into view. It had a long, bottlenose shape with what appeared to be thrusters on both the bow and stern, and the paint looked to be a middling peach color.

  “They’re not powering any type of weapon that the ship can recognize,” Emn said. “That’s a good sign. Do you think we should—”

  A burst of static came through the ship’s speakers. A definitively masculine voice—at least by Charted Systems standards—responded, the tone and inflection identical to Neek’s.

  “Greetings, Yorden Kuebrich. We hope you will forgive the intrusion.”

  “Intrusion?” Neek asked, turning to Emn. “What intrusion?”

  “They accessed the ship’s database,” Emn said, opening her eyes. “Downloaded all the culture files as well as ship schematics.” She blinked rapidly and then shook her head. “I tried to block them, but they had already pulled all the system files. They know how to work this technology better than I do.”

  “And no doubt think we’re Nugels,” Nicholas added sourly.

  “Tramp?” came the voice again over the speakers. “Please confirm that this language is acceptable for communication. We are familiar with your ship’s architecture but not your planets of origin. We once again apologize for the intrusion and hope we have not offended you in any way.”

  “Guess that answers that question,” Nicholas murmured.

  “Audio back on.”

  “No apologies are necessary, friend,” Neek said. “We were just a little startled. May we ask the name of your species and how we might refer to you?”

  “I am Captain Effin, and my vessel, Elkrade, is a tramp ship by your classification system. We work mostly in small-scale, interstellar trade. Our people are the Keft, and you are in orbit around our planet, on the very edges of Alliance space. Some might say just outside Alliance space.” Effin made a noise that sounded between a throat clearing and a cough. “We run supplies between the space station you see in front of you and the one on the opposite side of the moon.”

  “Would it be possible to visit your planet?” Neek asked. “We’d like to meet some of your people, maybe get something to eat, and stretch our legs.”

  “Certainly,” Effin responded cheerfully. “We don’t get many visitors to Keft, but I’ll send you coordinates to the visitor landing pad and customs office. Tourists are always welcome.” He paused, and Neek heard a soft clicking in the background.

  “We just received the coordinates,” Emn whispered.

  “As much as you want to be planetside,” Effin continued, “you might consider instead visiting one of
the space stations. Our planet is not particularly picturesque. The ecosystem collapsed some time ago due to poor farming practices.”

  Neek couldn’t do another space station. They’d been at Craston far too long, and the smell of porous biometal and Oorin respirator fumes still clung to her clothes. An ugly planet was still a planet. “We’d like to visit Keft first, if that is all right. We can discuss the stations when we are planetside.”

  “Your choice,” Effin responded. “Have a nice trip.”

  Emn brought a hand away from the panel and looked from Neek to Nicholas and then back again. A smile crept up to her face as she said, “They terminated the connection. Orders, Captain?”

  Neek bristled. “Fine!” she seethed, giving up what was obviously a losing battle. “I’m the captain.” She took two long steps to the door and then turned back around. Nicholas was doing his best to suppress a smirk, and Emn, while smiling, looked altogether too innocent. Neek wondered if she had imagined Emn’s eyes quickly darting back up to her face, but she made a point not to confirm that telepathically.

  “Someone…Nicholas, come get me when we’ve landed, all right? I’m going to go…just…yeah.” She stepped out the door, hunched, and walked briskly to her room, ignoring the excited chatter that followed her from the cockpit.

  Keft. Had Ardulum really come here? She hadn’t really registered what Captain Effin had said, but now his words repeated in her head. A dead ecosystem. Poor farming practices. Neek slid open the door to her room, stepped over a mound of data pads, and leaned against the wall. In the stillness of her quarters, she let her mind wander to the eerie similarities to her homeworld, and what that could mean for the reality of Ardulum.

  Chapter 6: Mmnn, Ggllot

  We will serve the Ardulans no longer. Send a message to the Alliance. Those that wish to join us can meet here in Mmnn. It is time to unite and be our own lords.

  —Intra-planet communication from Mmnnuggl dissidents, Third Month of Arath, 26_15