Ep.#14 - "The Weak and the Innocent" (The Frontiers Saga) (20 page)

She sat there, thinking about Jessica, the Alliance, and about Sergeant Weatherly who, despite her best efforts, kept creeping back into her mind to haunt her. She was sweaty, dirty, and thirsty, and she was tired. She knew the Alliance would come for her. She knew Jessica would not leave her behind. If there was a way, Jessica would find it.

If
there was a way.

Naralena had almost fallen asleep, her head hanging low between her drawn up knees, when a gentle touch on her back startled her.

“I believe it is clear,” Gerard said, rising to his feet.

“Finally,” she sighed, taking his hand to steady herself as she stood. She followed him toward the cabin in the middle of the meadow, as the other two men approached from opposite sides. For a moment, she wondered how it might look if someone
were
already inside that cabin, looking out at such men, approaching cautiously from different directions. It was hardly inconspicuous, in spite of Gerard’s insistence that they be as stealthy as possible.

The cabin itself was not much to look at. It appeared to be prefabricated and had been placed unceremoniously in the middle of the meadow. Beside it, a small creek stretched from the nearby hills on the left down to the lake not a hundred meters away on the opposite side. Now that they were deep into the meadow, she could see that the forest parted at the shore to reveal the lake beyond.

She followed Gerard up onto the front patio. He placed his hand on the control pad, and the door unlocked and swung slightly inward of its own accord. He pushed it open further with his foot, trying not to rush in while also trying not to look abnormally apprehensive. The interior of the cabin was dark, with the storm shutters blocking any light. He reached to the side and turned on the interior lighting and looked about.

His two compatriots converged on the front patio at that moment and followed him in, moving quickly about the cabin as they checked every room. After a minute, Gerard gestured for her to enter as well.

Naralena entered the cabin and looked around. It was dusty, and somewhat spartan in its decor, but it appeared to have all the comforts of home. A functional kitchen, a dining table, and a living area focused around a large stone fireplace. The ceilings were tall and there were doors on either side of the fireplace. An open staircase along the far wall led up to a walkway above the fireplace and beyond that, to two additional doors. “How long are we to stay?” she asked.

“Until your people come, or until it is no longer safe, whichever comes first,” Gerard answered. “The master bedroom is to the right and the only bathroom is to the left. We will occupy that room, the men will occupy the rooms upstairs.”

“We?” she asked.

“If we are to appear as a normal couple that have brought two good friends to our cabin for a relaxing vacation of fishing, hiking, and hunting, we must play the part. Do not worry,” he added with a smile, “I shall be sleeping on the couch.”

“How will we contact the Alliance?” she asked.

“There is a hidden doorway, behind the towel cabinet in the bathroom. It leads to a small root cellar. Communications gear and weapons are stored there.”

“Then we should begin listening for broadcasts as soon as possible,” she said.

“It is too soon,” he warned. “The communications gear does emit a detectable energy signal. Weak, but detectable. Should someone be monitoring the area, they might discover us. We should wait a day or two, maybe even three. We will explore the area, check out how many of our neighbors are in attendance, and look for any unusual activity. If we see no cause for alarm, then we will activate the communications gear.”

“Very well. What do we do now, then?”

“My men will go out and canvas the area to be sure that no one is watching us. Meanwhile, I will begin making dinner. If you like, you may wash up.”

“Is there running water?”

“Yes, from the creek that flows behind the cabin…and heat, from geo-thermal systems deep underground.”

“Wonderful,” she said, breathing a sigh of relief.

* * *

Deliza sat in the common area of their suite in one of Aitkenna’s finest hotels, studying her data pad.

“What are you doin
g?” Yanni asked as he entered the room.

“I’ve been studying the technical drawings of the 402s, the ship my father used to have on Haven, the one they call a ‘Falcon’ now.”

“What about them?” he asked as he sat down next to her.

“It occurred to me that the Alliance has not been using them effectively.”

“How do you mean?”

“They have been using them as both interceptors and to attack surface targets, usually in support of surface actions.”

“I was under the impression that the Falcons were quite effective in those roles.”

“They are, but only because they are big and powerful ships. But much of their space is wasted on systems that are of little use to the Alliance.”

Yanni moved closer to her on the couch, looking at the data pad that she held. “Such as?”

“Well, the lift systems, for one. It was designed and built for the Paleans. Palee is small and quite rocky, with very little flat land. Runways were difficult to build, and the atmosphere was rather thin, as well as having a much lower gravity than most human-inhabited worlds. The Falcons were designed to takeoff and land vertically, from surface bases. They have poor aerodynamic characteristics, which they made up for with brute force. But they were designed to be deep-space interceptors—to patrol the borders of the Palean system and engage any intruders. They were fast, with incredible acceleration, and were equipped with FTL systems.”

“They sound like excellent ships to me.”

“But the Earth has lots of flat, level land. Even the airbase at Porto Santo has runways. There is no reason to waste all that space with powered lift systems.”

“But if the Falcons have poor aerodynamic performance, don’t they
need
those powered lift systems?”

“For sustained flight operations, yes, but that uses a considerable amount of propellant. And they fly well enough to takeoff and land from conventional runways if need be. The point is, they should not be using them for atmospheric operations. They should be using them strictly for space operations. Doing so would allow them to be reconfigured, giving them greater interior space and considerably more utility.”

“Why do you think of such things?” he wondered.

“What do you mean? I’m always thinking of such things, you know that.”

“I mean, why now? After all that’s happened in the last twenty-four hours…”

“Twenty-eight,” she interrupted in her usual annoying way. She knew it irritated him, but she enjoyed watching his reaction.

“Twenty-eight hours. It just seems like you’d have other things on your mind, that’s all.”

“I’d rather
not
have other things on my mind, Yanni. I’d rather fill my mind with problems to solve, systems to analyze, equations to unravel…anything other than the events of the last twenty-eight hours.”

“I guess I can understand that,” he said as the chimes sounded, indicating a guest. Yanni got up and went to the door, checking the exterior camera display before opening it, as their security detail had instructed. It seemed a silly precaution to him, since there were two armed and well-trained guards at the door itself, and two more near the elevators. “It’s Navarro,” he told Deliza as he opened the door. “Captain,” he greeted.

“Mister Hiller,” the captain replied with a respectful nod. “I was summoned?”

“You were?”

“He was,” Deliza called from the sofa.

“You were…she did…”

“I understood,” the captain replied. “May I?”

“Of course,” Yanni replied, opening the door further and stepping aside to let him enter the room.

“How may I be of service?” Captain Navarro inquired.

“I have decided that I would indeed like to go to Sol.”

“Is there some urgency I am not aware of?”

“Not particularly, I just don’t think it serves any purpose for me to sit around this hotel suite, wasting credits and accomplishing nothing of value. Besides, the data cores should be returned to Earth, now that it has been secured against the Jung.”

“I am not certain that is the case,” Captain Navarro warned her.

“They are certainly as safe on Earth as they are here, are they not?”

“I expect that is a matter of opinion.”

“Well, my opinion is that it would be better for them to be in the hands of the Alliance, where they might be able to utilize some of the technologies contained within, rather than gathering dust in the Avendahl’s cargo hold.”

“I understand,” Captain Navarro replied. “And how soon do you wish to depart?”

“Tomorrow morning would be fine,” Deliza told him, “after I sign the papers granting you full legal authority over my family’s business matters in my absence.”

“Perhaps you could wait an additional day?”

“Whatever for?”

“My personal shuttle is being used to ferry the family of my first officer’s wife to the safety of Corinair. It will be back tomorrow evening, after which it will need to be refueled and provisioned, as well as have the data cores loaded and secured for the voyage… A matter I expect Mister Hiller will wish to supervise, since the safety of the data cores is his responsibility.”

“Why can’t we just take a cargo shuttle?” Deliza wondered.

“The journey will take the better part of three days time,” the captain explained. “The accommodations on a standard cargo shuttle may not be to your liking, my lady.”

“He’s right,” Yanni said. “Trust me on this.”

“In addition, my shuttle is faster, better equipped, and has better defenses than a standard cargo shuttle. I would also like to send several fast-attack jump shuttles along as escorts, to ensure your safety. I believe that Admiral Dumar would welcome their addition to his forces, and I have more than enough for the immediate future.”

“All reasonable arguments,” Deliza conceded. “Very well, we shall wait until the day
after
tomorrow.” Deliza cocked her head to one side and nodded respectfully. “Thank you, Captain. As always, your advice and concerns for my safety are greatly appreciated.”

“The pleasure is mine,” Captain Navarro replied, nodding in return. “Mister Hiller.”

Yanni smiled at the captain, nodding politely as well. He opened the door, let the captain depart, and then closed it again. He looked at Deliza. “For someone who insists she is no longer a princess, you sure do sound like one at times.”

* * *

Naralena looked at herself in the mirror, unfamiliar with what she saw before her. Her face was unchanged, albeit without any subtle touches
from the makeup she preferred to use, but her hair was…short. It had taken her more than an hour to get up the nerve to cut it off, and then another just to get it trimmed up into something presentable. She knew little of Koharan hairstyles, only what she had seen on their entertainment and news media. And she was not a hairstylist, by any stretch of the imagination. She had kept the ends trimmed herself for several years now, both while living on Haven and during her time aboard the Aurora. But her hair had been well past the middle of her back for more than a decade, and now, it was just…short.

She had been staring at it for a quarter of an hour, making final adjustments, all of which accomplished nothing. She had carefully bagged up all the hair, just as Gerard suggested, so that it could be disposed of without a trace.

She was quite impressed at his level of expertise. It was evident in the way he moved, and in the way he considered every detail and every possibility, no matter how remote, in order to prepare for anything that might occur. It engendered trust in him, and it made her feel safe, or at least as
safe
as she could feel, considering the circumstances.

One last look in the mirror. “How did you get so far away from home?” she asked her reflection. She took a deep breath, picked up the bag of hair, and finally left the bathroom.

Naralena walked confidently out into the living room, ready to face the rest of the group in her new persona. But the
group
was nowhere to be found. Only Gerard was there, standing in the kitchen.

“Finally,” he said as he noticed her. “I was afraid something had happened to you in there.” He turned to look at her as she approached. “Wow, you look great!”

“Really?” she asked, doubtful. “Wait, if you’re lying, I don’t want to know.”

“No, really. You look much better. It was a good choice of cuts. It frames your face much better, makes you look half your age.”

“You are well trained,” she retorted, sitting down at the table.

“I’m sorry if it’s cold, I’ve been holding breakfast for so long, I thought I was going to have to throw it out and start making lunch,” Gerard said as he came over and sat down across the table from her. “It’s not much, I’m afraid. Some fried potted meat and some rather stale biscuits.”

“I’m sure it will be fine,” she replied, picking up one of the biscuits.

“The others have gone hunting,” Gerard explained as he took a biscuit himself, “with any luck, we will have fresh meat later today.”

Naralena bit into the biscuit, tearing off a piece and chewing it.

“Is something wrong?” Gerard asked. “It’s the biscuits, isn’t it?”

“They are indeed stale,” she said as politely as possible.

“They are supposed to have a very long shelf life, for storage in such remote cabins. I guess it has been some time since any of my people had a chance to rotate supplies.”

“It’s all right,” Naralena assured him. “I’ve had much worse.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“Why do you say that?” Naralena wondered.

“It’s just that you have a rather stately, elegant manner about you. I am trained to notice such things, you know.”

“I am surprised that recent experiences have not bred such mannerisms out of me,” she said as she picked up a piece of the fried, potted meat.

“It is subtle, to be sure, but it is there nonetheless. I would guess that you came from a wealthy family, with a very proper upbringing and a good education.”

“Guilty on all counts, I’m afraid.” Naralena made a face as she chewed the meat.

“Too salty?”

“A bit.”

“I tried to give it a bit of flavor. I guess I failed. To be honest, I never have been much for cooking.”

“I never would have guessed.”

“Hey, in all fairness, I didn’t have much to work with,” Gerard defended. “So, I know you’re not from Earth,” he continued. “So where
are
you from?”

“Volon.”

A surprised look came across his face. “I would’ve guessed one of the core worlds, or maybe even the fringe. I’ve never heard of Volon.”

“It’s a very long way away from here,” she told him.

“It’s in the Pentaurus cluster isn’t it? The one Jessica was talking about?”