Star Brigade: Resurgent (Star Brigade Book 1) (14 page)

Right after Othia, Zago and Zakros took their leave, Amra and Stavroos dozed under scant sheets on their bed. Masra and Tharydane lay sprawled out on the floor, stuffed full of food and mirth from tonight.

“[I mentally linked an aaln today!]” Tharydane giggled softly.

Masra flipped onto her stomach and gaped at her. “[How was it?]”

“[Weird. I’ve never done anything like that before.]”

Masra still gawked. “[But how did ya do it?]”

“[Don’t know.]” Tharydane propped herself up on one elbow. “[I just tried and, it was kinda easy!]”

Masra shook her head in awe. “[You’re so gifted, Tharyn. You’re going to be famous and stuff.]”

Tharydane giggled and tossed back her curly hair. “[Oh, stop it Maz.]”

“[No, I mean it, Tharyn. You have full access to the gifts of Korvan. You can come and go as you please.]” Masra looked down sadly. “[You’ll leave Bimnorii for the stars and do great things.]”

Tharydane grasped her friend’s shoulders. “[And I’ll bring every Korvenite in Ymedes with me.]”

“[How?]” Masra sulked.

“[Ah, I don’t know.]” Tharydane shrugged and plopped back down. “[Maybe I’ll become a miner and find a big deposit in the desert!]” Both laughed quietly at this, trying not to wake Masra’s parents.

“[Hey!]” Masra got up to a kneeling position, still giggling. “[Wanna do a mind link?]”

Tharydane grinned and sat cross-legged. “[Sure, Maz.]”  Closing her eyes, Tharydane exhaled slowly and steadily. She spread her mind out, letting her senses reach Masra. Touching of another mind sent a tingly jolt up, down and sideways through her body. They had done this several times. It was weird, but fun connecting so thoroughly to another being. This way, Masra got to experience a glimpse of Mindspeak. Tharydane dove into her friend’s thoughts, the familiar insecurities and desires, all of these flooded her mindscape. In return, the Korvenite’s own conscious soared forth; the hope for a better life, the joys from dancing, sending all of that into Masra’s mind. It was a beautifully intimate tapestry of two minds, a connection that Tharydane remembered experiencing once before with her own family, long before they were torn from her life. That felt like a lifetime ago now.

Tharydane immediately felt Masra’s compassion rush forth to sooth those old sorrows away, at least temporarily. She was about to thank Masra for the sentiment…right as her mind exploded in pain.

It came from nowhere, just like all the other times; agonizing, debilitating. Instinctively she broke contact with Masra and clamped both hands around her head to staunch the pain. That did nothing.

Cloudless skies on a nameless world, filled with blissful starlight and the banners of many unified races were negated in nanoclics. The heavens roared—crying havoc, spewing forth a white-hot wave of light that scorched the land clean. Only charred corpses were left in its wake—and Tharydane experienced that unwanted ruin in the span of a heartbeat. Flashes of countless lives, snapshots of their deaths as they were roasted alive, millions of them ripped through Tharydane. Hopes and dreams not her own—gone.

Joy from a lover’s kiss, rage from a missed chance, all destroyed in one sweeping wave of death. The hollow shock slammed into Tharydane’s mind. She stumbled into the walls, scattering plates and utensils.

She couldn’t think. She couldn’t breathe. Her mind tried frantically to find an identity to this emptiness, only to drown in its inky depths ….

“[Tharydane!]” The young Korvenite’s clarity began to return. Someone was vigorously shaking her. She opened her eyes and through bleary vision saw Stavroos, Amra and Masra all staring down at her. Stavroos was holding her by the shoulders, keeping her from sagging onto the floor. Both he and Amra looked alarmed while Masra hung back, visibly dazed by what just happened. Through the mental haze, Tharydane prayed that she had broken the mind link before it hurt her. “[Another premonition?]” Stavroos asked. Tharydane nodded weakly. Her lungs burned for air, reminding her to breathe.

Amra moved closer, dotingly brushing away hair from the girl’s face. “[How bad was it child?]”  Tharydane couldn’t describe it, nor did she want to. The images were still as crisp as day in her head, and she burst into tears.  Stavroos quietly wrapped his arms around Tharydane, cradling her grief. These premonitions had started a month ago. Each one was more painful and more vivid than the preceding one.

But what truly struck Tharydane was their growing frequency—and with no end in sight.

“What part of ‘I’m fine and should be discharged’ don’t you understand?” Samantha D’Urso looked less than amused. In fact, she looked positively irate.

Seated on a recovery room bed in Corowood District’s St. James Medcenter, Sam fumed as a crimson medical mechanoid examined her up and down with a scancorder. As long as Habraum had known her, she always hated Medcenters. Her white lace shirt had been ruined by the puncture wound, so she now wore a yellow tank top and had her golden hair pulled up in a slapdash bun. Habraum stood nearby with Jeremy in his arms. The Medcenter staff attending to them also had cleaned up his blood-soaked shirt.

While Sam was being treated, the Regulat took Habraum’s account of what happened in the zoo. Thankfully they had captured all the Children of Earth involved. “These two-bit extremist groups are popping up everywhere with the Kedri-Union Trade thingamajig approaching,” said one human Regulator officer before departing. “Thanks for your help, Mr. Nwosu. We’ll make sure you remain anonymous.”

Both he and Jeremy had also been examined by Medcenter workers and were found injury-free. After some quick medical background checks on the medical neuronanocytes in their bodies, both Nwosu males were good to go. Jeremy finally seemed less rattled; his main concern now was Sam’s condition.

Habraum reassured his son that everything would be fine as they watched Sam’s surgery from the operating room viewing gallery—a right reserved for family, designated friends or emergency contacts. She lay on her side, motionless while a surgimech used biostimulants and lasers to stitch up her injury.

…
I can’t just leave her.
A shivering chill ran through Habraum as he looked on, this scene eerily similar to one from a year ago; him freshly battered from battle, watching Sam lying comatose and near-death in a Medcenter bed, her normally olive complexion nearly as ashen as a Korvenite’s.

I can’t just leave her
, he had told his pregnant wife as his best friend clung desperately to life. Jennica had understood without even the slightest annoyance, looking almost resigned, leaving a few days later for Cercidale on her own to wait for him. The Cerc, blind with grief over his butchered teammates, had promised Jenn that he’d see her as soon as he was able, to be there for the birth of their daughter…. Instead, Habraum’s wonderful Jennica was taken from him, meeting her end alone, consumed by the fire and darkness of a spacecraft collision…
All because I couldn’t just leave her.
The roiling in Habraum’s gut from that memory grew so fierce, he had to take himself and Jeremy to the general waiting room. The Cerc and his son waited there until Sam’s procedure was finished.

Half an orv later, Sam was healed up and good as new. That alone put Habraum in a much lighter mood, as did trying to keep a straight face as he watched her argue with the medical mech handling her care; a red and gold stick-like m-230 model. At first she tried convincing the medimech to release her. When that failed, Sam  then threatened it with functional harm. Both approaches failed. “I—AM—FINE—DISCHARGE—ME—NOW!” she cupped her hands and shouted every word right into the mechanoid’s face. Sam liked Medcenters even less than Habraum did.

“Ms. D’Urso,” the mechanoid repeated again in its monotone computerized voice. “Though we have treated your injuries, we need to confirm that all your body systems are at regular capacity. The injury you sustained would have been rather severe to most humans.”

“Well, I’m sturdier than most humans, Mr. Medimech!” Sam snapped, crossing her arms. “Besides,” her husky voice took a seductive tone as she motioned at Habraum. “
His
presence is already making me feel better.” She stared pointedly at him, clearly expecting his support.

Habraum sighed and put Jeremy down. “Sammie, stop being a
klonk
and let the mech finish.”

Sam’s eyes narrowed into slits, “Traitor!” she hissed melodramatically. Just then the room’s comm system sounded. “Samantha D’Urso, you have a secured TriTran call.”

Sam gestured in annoyance out the door. “See? I have to take that call—OOF!” She sprang off the bed with surprising quickness and tried to make a break for it. The M-230, however, reacted just as fast and snaked an arm around her waist, yanking her back down on the bed.

“Ms. D’Urso,” the m-230 began to repeat like a broken record. “Though we have treated—.”

“Shut UP!” Habraum shook with silent laughter. Jeremy, standing next to his father, giggled hysterically. “Yep, laugh it up at my expense, boys.” Sam made a face as the M-230 continued its scan.

For a moment, Habraum stared in the direction of the notification in amused confusion. Who would know that Sam was in the Medcenter—? He immediately stopped smiling.
Oh.
The call had to be a military secured transmission, coming directly from the Star Brigade’s headquarters on Hollus Maddrone starbase.
Sam notifying the Corowood Regulat must have sent off a flag to Hollus. Habraum sighed, knowing a certain Rothorid must be on the other end of that call.
Honaa
, he mused, his memories of the stern Rothorid as bitter as they were fond. It’d be nice to reconnect, even though Sam had warned the Cerc of his former mentor’s violently low opinion of him.

“I’ll take the call,” Habraum offered, earning a wary look from Sam. “Come on, Jeremy.” He took his son by the hand and left the room, the extreme sourness in his stomach returning.

St. James was one of the largest and best Medcenters in Vesspuccia, its marble white corridors bustling with commotion and care for those injured at the zoo. Mechanoids and sentients raced back and forth through doors and translifters, mostly with floating gurneys in tow. The nearest TriTran was situated a few metrids outside the recovery room, a hollow rectangular booth made to receive the 3-D diagram of the caller. The circular side console of the TriTran had a tiny flashing square on top to signify a caller was on hold. Habraum pressed the square. “Commander Samantha D’Urso is unavailable; Captain Habraum Nwosu answering for her.” There was a short pause as the system confirmed Habraum’s identity via VoRec, vocal recognition technology, then a computer voice said “Please step on the platform.”

“Stay right there sprout,” Habraum gently told Jeremy, who nodded obediently. The Cerc stood back onto the round platform as ordered. A column of light flashed around him briefly, taking a snapshot of his full body. The holobooth shimmered for a nanoclic as it received the 3-D image of the caller.

For a heartbeat, Habraum feared the sight of Honaa Ishliba materializing before him, and his mouth grew dry with apprehension. The Cerc steeled himself inside, both preparing and dreading to face the mentor he had avoided for the past year. The holoimage came through, and Habraum blew out an audible sigh of relief.  The caller was not Honaa, just someone else whose face warmed his heart.

Jeremy, though, didn’t share his father’s relief and squealed in terror. The 3-D replication of a scrawny, copper-skinned body swathed in flowing robes stood before him, towering over Habraum by a half-metrid. What freaked Jeremy out was the being’s neck, which was a full metrid long with an egg-shaped head on top. The throat of the slim neck looked like a set of abdominal muscles with two open slits, those two slits were actually two extra mouths. Round milky eyes blinked and the being’s flattened nose located on its forehead twitched with mild shock when he opened his mouths to speak.

“Habraum Nwosu,” three voices spoke the name at once, all with different tenors but at the same time and in the same peaceful cadence. “What a pleasant surprise.” Jeremy again squealed.

“Hello Lethe,” Habraum said slowly. It had been over a year since he’d spoken to Lethe, a member of the empathic Kudoban race and Director of Hollus Maddrone starbase. Despite the Kudoban’s pacifist kinfolk disagreeing with his involvement in a military function that used violence to enforce the GUPR’s laws, Lethe never swayed from managing Hollus or counseling any Brigadier who asked.

The Kudoban smiled genuinely at Habraum with his facial and neck maws. “We received the Regulat reports of the zoo incident. Samantha hasn’t contacted us directly—.”

“Don’t fret yourself, Lethe,” Habraum answered reassuringly. “Sam got hurt, but she’s okay now.”

Palpable relief washed over Lethe’s innocent, oval-shaped face, right as a fiery roar erupted from Sam’s recovery room. The brilliant flare-up was followed promptly by a grating metallic shriek that made everyone within the vicinity jump. Habraum turned to see the M-230 who had been treating Sam burst from the room. Both the mechanoid’s arms were now molten and trickling down its sides as it ran off—still shrieking, only just missing a well-dressed human coming from the opposite direction.

Habraum, not even a little staggered, rolled his eyes and turned back to Lethe. The Kudoban clearly heard the commotion and studied the Cerc knowingly. “Let me guess?”