Guardian Awakening (7 page)

He knew she was hiding something, an underlying current to her thoughts gave her away. He chose to ignore it for the moment, and maybe with a little more time and practice he could make more sense of what she was thinking.

“I’m going for a short walk to build up my strength, is there anything you need before I go?”
 

“No! No thank you.” She corrected herself. She turned back to the open panel, dismissing him with a wave of her hand.

Over the next week, they fell into a routine. Aesia worked on her craft, Tristan concentrated on regaining his strength, prepared the food, and replenishing the groceries by visiting the small local village shop. He thought it best to avoid a trip to the town for the present. He could also keep an eye on anyone walking up the track. The last thing he wanted was someone stumbling upon an alien working on her space ship.

One morning Tristan had left for his usual walk. The day was fine the sun warm on his back, and dappled sunlight seemed to dance through the gently rustling leaves. Everything was well with the world. He had noticed that her attitude towards him was improving. She had started to treat him more as an equal instead of something beneath contempt. Sometimes she could even be quite pleasant. He did however sense her becoming increasingly concerned that the repairs were not going well.
 

She had once broached the subject of having to stay here. Tristan had averted that decision for the present; he knew she could not hide indefinitely.
 

When Tristan returned he sensed something very wrong. Strong feelings of fear, hatred, and anger filled her mind. His chest tightened. Had someone walked by and seen her? Maybe the authorities had been tipped off and had come to arrest them both. He took tight control of his thoughts and with slow deliberation moved around his cottage. No official vehicles parked in his drive, so the source of Aesia’s distress had to be something else, but what? Keeping low he crept up the slope. As he reached the brow of the rise, he dropped down and crept forward on his stomach so he could see her ship.
 

His breath caught in his throat. Aesia was on her knees with her hands behind her head. Standing over her a different alien, with a second standing by a craft much larger than her fighter. The newcomers were slightly reptilian, with a faint, green tinge to their skin. Ridges ran from front to back of their heads where hair would normally be. They both wore dark blue uniforms. The markings on their craft were not the same as on Aesia’s fighter.

The one standing over her held a gun close to her head. She had a spreading bruise on the side of her face and blood oozing from her mouth. He was going to shoot her! Tristan’s insides twisted up.
That is not going to happen!

The other one lounged against an open door to their ship. It looked more like a shuttle or small scout ship rather than a fighter. He carried what looked like a rifle cradled loosely in his arms. From his obvious nonchalance, he thought there was nothing to threaten them here.
 

Tristan thought quickly; if he went back to the cottage and got her gun, it would be too late. What could he do? The alien could kill her at any moment. He could not sense their minds the same way he could sense hers, so he was at a loss for what to do, but he had to act quickly.
 

He racked his brain; she had disconnected her ship’s computer using its parts for the communicator, so no help there. Suddenly, he thought of her translator. She had it with her all the time. He felt for its presence; yes she had it with her! Holding his breath he sent a question to it, knowing it would translate what he instructed.
Can you take the one standing over you if I distract them?

He noticed her stiffen, and he got a clear
Yes
from the translator.

Ignoring the gorse tearing at his exposed skin Tristan dragged himself forward as close as he dared without them noticing him.
 

He saw the alien with the gun pointing at Aesia tense. He had run out of time. With a loud yell he jumped up and ran towards the one with the rifle as fast as he could, closing the distance with large strides, screaming at the top of his voice. He saw the alien fumble with his rifle and start to turn it towards him as if in slow motion. Tristan started to zigzag a little, but kept closing the distance, praying the alien was too startled to take proper aim. He hoped his shout, and sudden headlong rush, had distracted the one standing over Aesia sufficiently for her to take care of him.
 

The short distance seemed like a mile; he half expected to be shot before he reached his target. When he judged distance was close enough, he launched himself at the alien’s legs in a classic rugby tackle. The alien had been taken by surprise. He had taken too long raising his rifle. By the time he was ready to fire, Tristan had him.
 

He fired without taking any aim. Tristan ignored the searing pain and burning on the skin of his left shoulder. They both went down together. The alien, winded by Tristan’s tackle, lay gasping, and with a swift punch, Tristan knocked him out.
 

At Tristan’s yell, the alien standing over Aesia turned, the pistol wavered for a moment, and she lunged forward, twisted and pulled the feet from under him. His gun discharged harmlessly into the sky. With a swinging chop, she knocked the alien out while he was still off balance.

Aesia stood trying to control the trembling in her arms and legs. Tristan had saved her life for a second time; in Sicceian society she was now honour bound to this strange creature.

The way he had taken control of her translator troubled her; she did not know anyone who could do that. She bent and picked up the fallen pistol, turning it over in her hands. Maybe it would be safer to shoot him, now she had a means of escape? She glanced up. Tristan was watching her, a strange expression on his face. She hesitated then stuffed the pistol into her belt. He visibly relaxed, as if he had known what she was thinking.
 

Her stomach knotted, she had a deep-seated contempt of anyone who was not a member of her species, but she couldn’t kill him. She clenched her fists, commanding her trembling hands to be still, sighed then walked over to him.
 

Tristan broke the silence. “Who are they, and why did they want to kill you?”

The translator delivered the question as cold and emotionless but she was getting used to Tristan’s speech patterns, and this time she caught an undertone of suspicion and accusation.
 

“They are Mylians. The ones I was fleeing from when I crashed here.”

“You are at war with these beings?”

She nodded. “Yes.”
 

“Why?”

“It’s not important, we must leave now before more of them arrive.” Aesia glanced at the two prone Mylians. They were not dead, but it would be a while before they regained consciousness. She kicked the one lying by the open hatch.
 

Tristan stepped towards her. “Hey don’t!”

She shrugged. “They are nothing! Let me see your shoulder.”

Tristan turned. The rifle shot had just grazed his shoulder and burned his shirt. He winced as Aesia touched the wound with her fingers. The beam had seared the skin, sealing the wound.

“You were lucky, it will be sore for a couple of days but it is nothing serious.”

She turned and stepped through the large craft’s open door. “Come on, we must go now!”
 

They entered the craft, and Aesia went immediately to one of the two seats and sat down. She passed her hands over the controls; everything was in order, she could pilot the craft without trouble.
 

She looked over her shoulder, Tristan was standing at the entrance. She smiled. “You must sit and strap yourself in.”

Tristan shook his head. “No, I can’t leave just like that.”

Aesia swallowed, he had to come with her; she needed him for evidence. A planet this rich and diverse was unheard of. She knew she would have difficulty convincing her superiors about a new undiscovered species of strong, healthy, perfect slave stock. If she could not bring herself to shoot him, she would at least be able to use him.

She stood slowly, her mind racing; how could she get him to come? Things had happened far faster than she had expected. She was not ready… No he was not yet ready. She bit her lip for a moment then decided to gamble.

She walked towards Tristan, a tall, dark looming shape outlined by the sunlight streaming through the open hatch. She laid a hand on his arm gently and looked into his face his strange eyes half-hidden in shadow.

“You have to come with me, please. It will be difficult finding my people, and I cannot do it alone.”

She felt the muscles in his arm tense under her fingers. She held her breath, waiting, her hand lingering on his arm. She hoped the shadows hid her flush; her hand tingled at the touch. A detached part of her mind asked,
what are you doing?

“What will happen to me when we find your people?”

“You will be rewarded for helping me and escorted back home.” She twisted the truth a little, hoping he could not sense the deception.

Tristan stood looking down at her, and she tried not to show the tension in her face, and held her mind empty. Her churning emotions held against a barrier. After a moment, he nodded almost imperceptibly, and as if he were talking to himself he replied. “There is nothing for me here, and it would be an adventure of a lifetime.”
 

She squeezed his arm and a satisfied smile danced across her lips. “Thank you, we must leave quickly.”

“OK but we should at least grab some supplies and clothes?”

“Oh yes… Yes of course.”

They ran back to Tristan’s cottage. While Tristan grabbed a couple of changes of clothes and stuffed a couple of carrier bags full of food, Aesia threw her uniform over her shoulder and gathered the clothes he had brought her into her arms. She moved quickly, hurrying him along not giving him time to think and change his mind.

They ran back to the ship. A small cabin at the rear of the craft contained two bunk beds. Aesia ordered Tristan to throw everything in there for the moment and shut the door. She ran to the pilot’s chair. She waited while Tristan walked across to the empty seat at her side and clipped on the harness. Her hands moved swiftly and surely over the controls. The craft rose quickly, and they were soon in the darkness of space.
 

She carefully watched the sensors, hoping to avoid detection from whatever larger spacecraft there may be around. The small craft accelerated. There was nothing on the sensors. The scout ship was self contained and faster than light capable, so the main ship might be several light years away. Aesia sighed, flexing her shoulders letting the stress flow from her body. With a final sensor check she set the controls and checked the artificial gravity system before releasing her harness; time to explore the craft and take stock of what they had.

To the rear of the ship, behind the airlock hatch, was a small galley, behind that, a washroom. Opposite the galley a storage area full of ration packs.
 

“Can we eat that?” Tristan asked.

Aesia nodded. “Yes. So far, all the species we have discovered have the same biological make up with only minor differences.”

Tristan looked at her “Don’t you find that strange?”

“What?”

“That species evolving on different worlds through a different set of circumstances and chance events should be so similar.”
 

She shrugged. “I’ve never thought about it. I’m just a simple soldier.”

Tristan checked the number of packs. “It looks as though we could have about six weeks supply if we are careful. What about water and air?”

“The recycling systems are efficient on ships of this type, even if it was built by Mylians!”

“Well how long?”

“We should have enough for about three months, but I can check with the ships systems.”

She led Tristan back to the front of the ship and sat back in the pilot’s chair. He stood for a little while, watching the stars out of the view port.
 

“Why is there no telepathic interface to the computer like there is on your ship?”

“Because other than you, we are the only species that has that ability.”

Tristan nodded and turned back to the view port.

Over the next five days or so, Aesia taught Tristan her language. It was OK using the translator, but it was imprecise, and the computer sometimes got the translation wrong. Due to the telepathic connection, which seemed to strengthen between them as the days passed, she found that Tristan picked up the language quickly.

As the week wore on he became quite fluent and could hold a conversation with her. One evening she decided to tell him a little about the war her people were fighting.
 

The Mylians were one of the species her people had found during their exploration of nearby systems many years ago. They were little more than ignorant savages, but they made useful and obedient slaves.
 

Unfortunately, while the Sicceian military was distracted fighting another species they had discovered, the Mylian’s rebelled, and having stolen Sicceian technology they were proving difficult to subdue. But, it was only a matter of time. Once they were defeated, they would be punished for trying to break away from Sicceian dominance.
 

Tristan had questioned her when she had mentioned punishment, which had puzzled her. Surely, slaves should be punished for rebelling against their masters? Especially as the Sicceians were far superior to any other species yet discovered. She told him that families would be split up, most of the adult males killed and a forced breeding program on the remaining females to replace the missing males, a long term project.

Tristan glared at her then sulked, and had not spoken with her since.
 

A couple of mornings later, as Aesia busied herself with a routine system check, Tristan walked past her to the galley. She sighed; he was nothing more than an ignorant savage himself. She should be indifferent, she bit her lower lip but it troubled her that he had been shocked at what she had said.