Alien Honor (A Fenris Novel) (10 page)

“Uh… you did.”

“I was expecting—”

“A tech?” Cyrus asked.

Jasper climbed to his feet, and he slipped whatever he held into a pocket. “What do you think of the room?”

Cyrus Velcro-walked with a
rip-rip
sound as he moved to the exercise machine. He tore his feet off the carpet and sat in the seat, fitting his shoes into a leg extension apparatus. He used to work out here as Venice watched. She liked seeing hard muscles bunching and flexing. With a flick of his hand, he set the leg extension for a three hundred pound press and pushed.

“This feels good,” Cyrus said, doing several reps. “I wouldn’t mind working out and using the shower later. I hear this room has its own hot water. Is that true?”

“I know you visited Venice. Did she let you use the shower?”

“Everyone else just uses the buffers and air jets to keep clean,” Cyrus said. “Now you have water. You’re moving up in the world.”

“They should install water showers for each of us.”

Cyrus did another leg extension. That didn’t sound like Jasper. “Yeah, we should all get water showers, but we won’t. No one in any Teleship has hot
water showers except for Venice. She was so good she could make demands for privileges.”

“She wasn’t that good,” Jasper said.

“She killed the shift crew and twenty other people besides. What happened, Jasper? Why did she go crazy?”

The telepath moved to his bed, sitting down, staring at the deck plates. He scowled. It put lines in his forehead. He glanced at Cyrus.

The monitors might figure out we’re communicating
, Jasper told him.

Cyrus did another two reps, and that was probably the only thing that hid his shock from the cameras and watching monitors.

I don’t get it
, Cyrus thought, wondering if Jasper could pick up his words.

I can hear you just fine.

How are you able to use telepathy? Did Wexx forget to turn you off?

Listen. I’ve done it. I’ve shorted—well, I’ve deactivated the inhibitor but without their knowledge that it’s off. I’m always on, as I used to be.

There’s no way you could do that unless you had help.

I had help
, Jasper admitted.

Are you talking about the alien that Venice felt earlier?

Yes.

Jasper, what did they do to her?

Nothing.

She didn’t just go crazy by herself.

I think she did. They must have offered her the same thing they offered me. It must have frightened her and she lashed out. But I’m here to tell you that the aliens are friends.

They’re not friends. They’re
aliens
with their own agendas.

I can show you how to bypass your inhibitor,
Jasper said.

Great, show me.

First, I have to go in deep. Even though your inhibitor is off, you’ll feel me and resist.

No way,
Cyrus told him
. No one goes in deep without a fight.

Cyrus kept a hidden knife on his person, a small blade but very sharp. The prick of the point would bring a dot of blood if he tested it on his thumb. He didn’t need a lot of knife to make a critical cut. Most people didn’t understand knives. They thought it was like boxing. One had to swing and hit hard,
stabbing into a man. That was wrong. You only needed to touch and skin would magically part and blood would begin to pour. You stepped away and soon your enemy’s strength bled onto the floor. If Jasper probed deep, Cyrus would be out of the exercise machine with his knife in seconds.

Jasper licked his lips.
You don’t want me to go deep, not even to get rid of the inhibitor?

Cyrus moved his hand to the knife
. Is that what the alien did to you: go in deep?

There was a moment’s hesitation before Jasper thought,
No, of course not.

The two of them stared at each other.

Bah. This is taking too long.
Jasper scowled and bent his head.

Cyrus noticed the changing color of Jasper’s eyes. And in a second, the inhibitor no longer suppressed his psi-abilities. Cyrus raised a mind shield, shutting out Jasper’s telepathy.

“What did you do that for?” Jasper asked. “I just… gave you what you wanted.”

Cyrus got out of the exercise machine and put on his Velcro-soled shoes. “I like the new room, but it’s really too bad about Venice. When are they going to talk to her?”

“I think her inhibitor is broken,” Jasper said. “I think Argon is too afraid to wake her.”

“Why don’t they use you to shield them against Venice? With your help, they could talk to her and find out what happened.”

Jasper looked up at a camera and then at Cyrus. “She’s too powerful for anyone to handle. I don’t think I could shield anyone.”

“Yeah, right, like you believe that.” Cyrus looked up at a camera. “I’d use Jasper to help me get to the bottom of this.”

Jasper fidgeted, and it seemed as if he wanted to say more. He scratched his head and raised an eyebrow.

Cyrus lowered his mind shield a little.

What are you doing?
Jasper asked.

I’m glad to get rid of the inhibitor, but we need to know more about these aliens. No one helps anyone for free. There’s always a cost. I want to know more about these aliens before we reach New Eden. I want to know what has Venice going crazy. By the way, why don’t our telescopes show any high-tech life in the New Eden system? That doesn’t make sense.

I think the aliens have a tech that hides them from our telescopes,
Jasper said.

That’s impossible.

It’s like a false picture that they radiate outward, and that’s what our telescopes pick up.

Cyrus thought about that. Could it really work like that? He didn’t know, and Jasper was acting weird. He needed to do some hard thinking.

“Okay then,” he told Jasper. “I’ll see you later.”

He headed for the door and put his mind shield back up, blocking all thoughts. It struck him then, how Jasper knew something like that about the false picture signals. Had the aliens told him that? The more Cyrus thought about it, the more he wanted to hear what Venice had to say about her last shift attempt.

5

Journeyman Klane sat in the seeker’s tent as the winds howled outside. Dust and bigger grains of sand pelted the western side of the tent. Klane hardly heard that or the groan of the bone tent poles.

He sat on a flattish rock, polishing his junction-stone. The stone was jet black and wet with gat oil. Klane rubbed and rubbed. He recalled the trek to the Singing Cave. He remembered his bloody nose. But most of all, he concentrated on his magic spell. The seeker had named the spell. It was called “Teleport.” Although Klane hadn’t been able to cast it again, he had done it once, a spell the old man had never been able to achieve.

I am now a seeker indeed
.

Klane grinned, and he focused on the stone. It was heavy in his hand and he had impregnated it with power. Ever since returning from the Singing Cave, Klane had brimmed with confidence. The warriors must have sensed it in him. They no longer needled him with sly jokes, but silently moved aside when he neared. It was a good feeling. All his life, he had been the butt of their pranks, of their rough humor, but it appeared not any more.

During his many taunt filled years, the seeker had stuck up for him against the others. The seeker had sheltered him here in the tent or in the tent of one of his wives. Sometimes, though, the old man had made him endure the taunts. Klane understood now that the old man had done that to strengthen him.

As he sat in the tent polishing the stone, a shriek sounded above the howling wind. Something about the shriek penetrated Klane’s concentration. He looked up. The shriek broadcast again, followed by several others. Then a gong began to sound.

“A raid,” Klane whispered. It was the alarm gong, a thing of metal struck with a mallet.

What clan would raid during a windstorm of the Eye? It made no sense. This was a wicked time when the baleful Eye of the Moon searched for evildoers to devour. No one with any sense walked abroad away from a clan’s protective symbols.

The back hairs of Klane’s neck bristled. His stomach seethed with fear. Clan warriors would never attack now. It had to be the demons.

Klane’s gat-oiled fingers tightened around his junction-stone. He clenched his teeth and lurched to his feet. He was a seeker, or nearly one, with an impregnated stone. He had an obligation to protect the clan from demons. It was one of a seeker’s greatest duties.

He burst out of the tent and into the swirling dust storm. The cluster of encircling tents quivered and shook, and sand and grit blew in the air. The sky was dark with particles, but the moon shined its banded colors. Klane couldn’t help but look up, even though it was bad luck to do so on such a night.

The black Eye of the Moon peered down at him. The great swirling orb had broken up the moon’s many banded colors, at least in its region. Those bands normally crossed the moon in great horizontal stripes. The Eye swirled around and around in vile motion, a churning, continuous thing.

Klane shivered and fear entered his soul.

The alarm gong rang once more.

Klane tore his gaze from the terrible Eye. Relief flooded through him, and he found that he clutched his junction-stone.

Have I gained power over the Eye?

The thought gave him courage. He parted his lips and laughed. If the Eye couldn’t suck his soul, he could do anything.

With rebounded confidence, Klane shielded his gaze from the blowing dust and looked around. Women picked up young children and ran for the Jumbles in the distance. The Jumbles were great fields of boulders. Some warriors ran with them, shielding themselves from the mocking Eye.

Klane’s heart thudded with renewed fear. What could make Tash-Toi warriors run like cowards? They had seen the Eye before.

Other warriors argued in a group, among them the hetman and Cletus the Champion. Several of the bravest warriors hefted their spears and pointed skyward.

Squinting against the gritty wind, Klane looked up where they pointed. His heart went cold at the sight.

An air-car slid across the sky. It had a bubble canopy. Two demons sat in the car, big monstrous beast-creatures. They peered down at the Tash-Toi and brought their air-car lower.

The hetman blew the war horn and raced toward the air-car. He shook his spear at the craft, offering to fight it for the honor of the clan.

Klane clutched his junction-stone and snarled. He had magic. He was almost a seeker. Here was his chance to prove to everyone that he could protect the clan. He raced after the hetman.

“Klane, no!” the seeker shouted. “Come back! You don’t know what you’re doing.”

If Klane heard the seeker, he didn’t give any evidence. He ran at the lowering craft, and he ran after the hetman. He heard warriors shouting, and he gained courage from their voices.

Raising the fist clutching the junction-stone, Klane roared curses at the demons. His eyes turned a metallic color and sweat appeared on his face. Then a bright light blinked inside the air-car canopy, and the floating vehicle turned toward him.

“Klane, run!” the seeker shouted, his words whipped away by the wind.

One of the demons pointed at Klane. Fear knifed in Klane’s heart. He couldn’t hurt the demons. He knew that. The seeker had told him so many times. One had to stop them a different way.

Their air-car, maybe I can injure it
.

Although fear pulsated through him, Klane grinned like a malic-beast and cast a powerful spell at the air-car. It slid effortlessly through the howling sky, a mighty symbol of demon power. Klane felt the magic drain from him and pour through the junction-stone.

From above came a strange grinding sound and a howl. The smoothly sliding air-car lurched. It threw the two demons together.

Klane laughed wildly.

The air-car began to fall. It plummeted toward the red sands and crashed with a mighty splintering and thunder of noise. It crumpled and began to leak the blood of two slain demons.

Klane sagged to his knees. He was spent, but he had done the impossible. In this instant of time, he had become a demonslayer.

Moments later, he was aware of warriors slapping his back and praising him.

“You saved the clan.”

“Did you see his courage?”

“He laughed at the demons.”

“He is a seeker among seekers,” the hetman proclaimed. “You and you, help him to my tent.”

“No,” the old seeker said.

Klane lifted his head, grinning at the old man. The seeker did not grin back.

“What’s wrong?” the hetman asked the seeker.

“He has slain demons. They will want revenge. We must flee and hide in the Wild Rocks.”

“Why flee?” the hetman asked. “Klane can destroy more demons if they come.”

The seeker shook his head. “He killed demons. They do not allow that. They will bring hunters, two hundred of them, or they will come in twenty air-cars. They will take him away to study his brain. He has done a terrible and foolish thing.”

“What are you saying?” the hetman asked.

“That we must flee while we can,” the seeker said. “The Eye of the Moon has seen us, and now the demons will boil out of the valleys in rage.”

“No,” Klane said. “I will go to the nearest valley and slay demons. Better I die than the clan dies.”

“You are wrong,” the seeker said. “You are the Chosen One.”

“I do not understand,” Klane said.

“He is the Chosen One,” the seeker told the hetman. “But it is too soon for him to challenge the demons.”

The hetman nodded. Swiftly, he turned to the warriors. “The demons have declared war against Clan Tash-Toi. But we have a seeker among seekers named Klane. We will pry metal from their air-car to fashion greater weapons.
Then we will march to the Wild Rocks and we will hide from the valley creatures. Hurry,” he said, clapping his big hands. “We must hurry.”

Warriors ran to do his bidding.

“I’m sorry,” Klane whispered to the old man, who helped him to his feet.