Howl of the Wolf (Heirs to the Throne Book 1) (6 page)

“I could chart it in my sleep,” Trenton boasted with a jaunty salute.

Donovan nodded.  “We’ll hold a briefing at 1800 hours and establish the full schedule.”  He noticed Chella waiting impatiently.  “Dismissed, Trenton.  Alex, I think Chella needs your help.” 

“What is it?” Alex asked.

“Someone assaulted Krystal mentally.  I could see his eyes when I touched her.  They were like black pits absorbing her mind.”

“It’s a memory.  Someone tampered with her mind, but there was no current contact.”

“No!  This happened in real time, not memory.  He’s on this ship.”  Chella bit her lower lip. 

Donovan frowned.  “Establish a rotating schedule so someone stays with Krystal around the clock.  Alex, you need to review the records of everyone on board.”

“I personally scanned the crew,” Alex said.

Donovan’s green eyes flashed with anger.  “I want everyone checked again!”

“Yes.  I’ll give it top priority,” Alex replied, studying Donovan’s face.  

“Don’t try to read me, I’m not the patient.  We’ve got plenty to worry about without analyzing my actions.”  Donovan turned back to the starchart with an air of dismissal. 

*****

As a voice called to her through a thick mist, Krystal twirled and a filmy orange and blue scarf caressed her skin in silken swirls.  Her body moved to hypnotic music and she tried to ignore the voice.  It was no use.  She stopped dancing and listened.          

“Krystal! Please wake up,” Chella pleaded.  “We need you.”

She yawned and opened her eyes.  “I was having such a nice dream.  Why’d you wake me?”

Chella frowned.  “I couldn’t feel your mind.  Are you okay?”

Krystal stretched, arching her back.  “You worry too much.”

Chella said, “Worrying is part of my job description.  Speaking of jobs, do you feel well enough to work?  We’re short-handed.”

“Sure, I feel fine but you know I can’t monitor while I’m headblind.  What else can I do?”

Chella grinned and her white teeth sparkled against dark skin.  “Work the boards.”  Krystal groaned.  “Alex wants the entire crew prepped for Transfer before we reach our destination.”

“What?”  Krystal sat up, astonished at the magnitude of the job.

“Anyone who hasn’t transferred in the last five years must complete Transfer prior to touchdown.”

“Why?  What’s so urgent?” 

“I forgot.  You haven’t heard our problem.”  Chella’s eyes narrowed and her lips tightened.  “We’re escaping from the Institute.”

While Krystal dressed, Chella explained the problem.  The disclosures about the Institute’s death brigade did not entirely surprise Krystal and leaving the grip of the Institute was a relief.  She hated the boredom of her job and the feeling of captivity her debt to the Institute represented.  Freedom!  Energy and hope flooded her, eradicating her fear. 

She said, “Lead me to the boards.  Alex must be frazzled, trying to plan the schedule.”                    

“He’s eager to see you.”

As Chella led the way to the lab, Krystal remembered their first meeting.  A full head taller than most men the lean African looked wild and untamed, dressed in colorful robes unique to her tribe.  Her long hair swung in lazy ripples of tightly woven braids tipped by sparkling gems as she strutted through the laboratories. 

As African nobility, Chella’s training in the labs represented a political gesture to soothe the tribes, but no one expected the talented empath to remain on staff.  Chella’s future, a tribal throne with a controlling husband at her side, was forever altered when she announced her decision to join the medical team.  It really didn’t surprise Krystal—she couldn’t imagine a man who could control Chella for long.

Krystal smiled at the change in her friend, from tribal princess to efficient medtech.  Chella’s uniform, probably designed to fit a muscular man, hung loose over her lean figure.  Her short black hair had been cut in an angular style that emphasized high cheekbones and large eyes.  If Chella assumed a severe facial expression, she could intimidate anyone unfamiliar with her mellow personality and dazzling smile. 

Attitude was the most dramatic change in Chella.  Warmth, compassion, and tenderness replaced her aristocratic demeanor of superiority.  Krystal appreciated the astonishing transformation but always wondered why it happened.

Filled with equipment superior to large spaceports, the small medlab had been designed to fit the compact space.  How had Alex managed it?  Institute restrictions against private research made facilities of this type nearly impossible.  She felt a sense of pride, working with the mild-mannered research scientist turned defiant revolutionary.

She reviewed the list of patients.  Of twenty crew scheduled for Transfer, Captain Donovan’s name topped the list.  Since he couldn’t leave the bridge until they landed, he was scheduled to go last. 

Immersed in work, Krystal failed to notice the constant presence of companions.  She rarely slept during the next few weeks, partly due to the work schedule, but also to avoid dreaming.  If she slept, she always woke drenched in sweat, fighting an invisible enemy whose face floated at the edge of her memory.

******

Jarrack felt frustrated.  He couldn’t question the crew, Krystal managed to rebuff his control, the ship traveled to the outer reaches of the galaxy, and communication with headquarters remained impossible.  One day he skulked through the lab, searching for a means to stop the ship, and discovered Krystal working. 

His anger flared. 
That blasted woman!  Can’t she stay out of my way?
  He remembered the pleasure of “interrogating” her after his Transfer.  She revealed nothing of Dr. Alexander’s plan but he relished inflicting fear and pain until he left her for dead.  In fact her survival nearly spoiled his plans to infiltrate the Zebulon. 

When he discovered the rescue, he quickly forced short-term amnesia on the woman, and planned to finish the job through her dreams. 
Now the damned woman wakes if I touch her mind, and people are always hovering over her.
 
If she breaks free of the memory block, she’ll reveal my identity and threaten my assignment.  How can I kill Donovan and Dr. Alexander with Krystal working in the lab?

Jarrack clenched his fists. 
I can’t risk killing her, since that blasted Donovan is already suspicious.  He demanded fresh scans of the crew but I forced Dr. Alexander to forget that order.
If Donovan pressed the issue, Jarrack’s brain pattern wouldn’t match records of the man he spaced just before takeoff.  Grinding his teeth, Jarrack slipped out of the lab without being seen.

*****

Chella and Maggie chatted as they entered the lab together, Maggie with a steaming cup of coffee.  “Take time for refreshments, Krystal.  Trenton says we’re only three days out.  How’s it going?”

Krystal leaned back in the plastifoam chair.  “Great.  We only have two Transfers left, including Donovan.” 

Maggie looked down at her own small body.  “You do great work.  I haven’t been this trim in spans.  Trenton can hardly keep his hands off.  He’s talking about marriage when we get downworld.”

“Marriage?  Is that a custom on Drako?”

Maggie’s eyes sparkled.  “Oh yes!  It’s an archaic notion, forbidden by the Institute,” she blushed, “but it sounds so romantic.  I think we’ll do it.”

Chella nodded. “You two make a wonderful pair, but I’m too fond of my independence to let a man tie me down.”

Krystal laughed.  “I remember when marriage was all you could talk about.  What happened to those great plans to become the queen of your tribe?”

Chella’s dark eyes flashed with merriment.  “I met my betrothed, big, fat, old, and ugly.  Suddenly a medical career looked mighty attractive.  When I first trained in zero gravity, my braids writhed like snakes and the jewels hit my face, my royal robes billowed out like a balloon.”

Maggie giggled.  “I remember!  The minute Chella left the antigravity chamber, she grabbed a pair of scissors.  We didn’t have a woman’s uniform large enough to fit her.”

“That was fine.  I hate form-fitting tunics and tights, so I opted for a man’s uniform tucked in at the right places.  I’d feel half-naked with the goods always on display.”  Chella’s eyes widened as Maggie frowned.  “Oh, you two look great in tight clothes, but I look like a bandy-legged ostrich without feathers.”

Maggie shook her head.  “Chella, give it up.  You already made us feel conspicuous.  I enjoy the attention Trenton gives me in these outfits.”

“There you go again!”  Chella groaned.

“Chella’s going to become a nun,” Maggie said.  “That way she can avoid men.”

“If I join the Sisterhood, it’s because I believe in their good work,” Chella said, her tone somber.

“I didn’t mean to insult you.”  Maggie blushed deeply.  “I was joking, so please don’t be mad.”

Chella’s expression softened.  “I had to hide my faith for so long…it’s hard to realize I can speak freely.”  She turned to Krystal.  “The Institute automatically reprogrammed believers.”

Krystal touched Chella’s hand.  “How did you change so dramatically?  It’s more than hair and clothes.”

Chella’s eyes filled with tears.  “I stayed with my father when he died,” she said, her voice faltering.  Krystal squeezed Chella’s hand.  “The Institute ordered our tribes to be gene-altered—to make our skin white.  When my father refused, he was denied Transfer.”

“That’s dreadful!”

“The Institute cut off medical assistance to all the elders who opposed the genetic program.  On his deathbed, I held my father’s hand, hoping to ease his pain… his faith eased mine.  Later the Institute realized that gene-altering skin color doesn’t work, so his sacrifice was wasted.”  Chella gazed into the distance.  “The Institute fears religion.  People who believe in an afterlife rebel against Transfer.  I may join the Sisters on Drako to dedicate myself to God’s work—not to escape men.” 

Maggie lowered her eyes.  “I know.  Please don’t take offense.”

Chella’s hearty laugh broke the somber mood.  “Then just tell Trenton.  He teases me unmercifully.”

“Trenton’s a lost cause!”  Maggie twisted a red curl of hair.  “He can’t believe anyone would deliberately choose to live without sex.  It’s against his religion.”

The comline beeped.  “All hands report to the bridge for a briefing,” the voice said.  Within minutes the crew crowded onto the bridge.

Donovan scanned the expectant faces. “You understand our reasons for fleeing from the Institute.  We’re about to enter orbit, so we wanted you to hear Trenton describe the world we’ve chosen as our sanctuary.”

Trenton stood.  “I’ve often bragged about the beauty of my home world, and I’m sometimes prone to exaggerate…” Laughter erupted and Trenton grinned.  “You’ll see first-hand that I understated the beauty of Drako.” 

He activated a screen that displayed a solar system chart.  “Drako is the fourth planet of a two-sun system.  The secondary sun is a gas giant located at the far end of the planetary system and only visible from Drako for half the year.  Downworld it looks like a large red moon and locals call it the dark moon.” 

The screen zoomed in on the planet with its blue oceans and lush green continental masses.  “Drako has an Earth-like climate.  It was colonized as a recreation planet by rugged individuals searching for a simple lifestyle, and for several spans Drako operated as an amusement park for wealthy vacationers.  Eventually tourism failed but the colonists were happy.  They were fed up with gawking sightseers and wanted to live a rural life free of technology.  The government is feudal, filled with castles, kings, knights, and commoners.  We’ve got crystal-clear lakes, pollution-free rivers, lush forests, green fields, majestic mountains, hot deserts, and the sweetest air and water this side of the galaxy.  Everything on Drako is real.  The various social groups were modeled after ancient Earth cultures but have been left alone for many spans.  Any questions?”

Chella asked, “If this planet is so idyllic, why has the Institute stayed away?”

Trenton grinned.  “After tourists stopped coming, the colonists were afraid of offworld interference and built a planetary defense system.  They stopped spaceships from landing without specific entry codes.”

Donovan interrupted, “The planetary defense system is one reason we chose Drako.”

“How do we breach the defense system?” a crewman asked.

Trenton grinned.  “I know the entry codes.”

“How do you know the codes are still good?”

“I contacted a downworld friend, who granted us safe entry.  I left over seven spans ago, but my source confirmed their feudal system is still intact.  Their king agrees to grant us sanctuary.”

Donovan said, “Trenton gave us his private historical tapes about Drako.  Please study them carefully and form discussion groups to pool knowledge.  Trenton will answer questions during shift changes.  We land at 0900 tomorrow and my Transfer is scheduled after touchdown.  No one may leave the ship without clearance.  Should a problem arise, Trenton will assume command.  Anyone on active duty, please return to your post.”