Authors: D. Martin
Chapter Nine
The planet the
Stardancer
settled in orbit around ten standard days later was
indeed a dark gray globe of depression. And it had no moons to comfort it. The
planet’s entire image in the view screens engendered rising despair within me.
Where on that large, gloomy globe would we find the creature that had imparted
bits of its self to help Matt survive? The ship’s initial planet sector scans
revealed no indications of radiant energy sources, either biological or
mechanical. The planet was uninhabited. No colonies or indigenous
civilizations. And no animal or plant life, although the ship sensors showed
there had been such until recently. The planet was as void of life now as was
the entire doomed sunstar system.
I glanced over at Matt and then
averted my gaze. The pained expression on his face ripped at my heart, as did
my own barely conquered envy and resentment at knowing the memories causing his
anguish.
I’m a fool!
I further
berated myself.
Why did I ever conceive
this wild, destructive notion to come here?
I focused my glare upon the
planet displayed on the screen while I twisted the Matt’s band on my finger.
I’d rewrapped plastafiber around it to make it fit again.
The Alliance Patrol had never
officially explored or rated this system, despite sending an emergency shuttle
in response to the
Fire Dawn’s
distress beacons. I had elicited a few details from Matt over the ensuing ten
standard days of our flight course. The Alliance Patrol had placed a ban on
exploration in this uncharted system and had unimaginably logged this system
only as MX-21ZG.
Didn’t it at
least deserve a real name, since it was
dying?
However, they’d never named the planets, so Matt’s dark one bore no
designation either. The Patrol had listed the planetary system as uninhabitable
because of its unstable, contracting dwarf star. The system was off limits.
Indeed, as the
Stardancer
had approached the star system’s boundaries, an
automatic Patrol warn-off recording had begun broadcasting through the ship’s comm
system at several minute intervals, from small beacon satellites placed there
by the Alliance Patrol ship years ago after Matt’s rescue. Matt had dialed the
comm volume down to a whisper to preserve our sanity. Twenty standard hours and
several small vortex leaps later, the
Stardancer
bypassed the system’s frozen outer planets and sped on course toward a
planet occupying the fourth orbit around a tiny, red dwarf sun. The warn-off
broadcast finally ceased.
“Is the system’s star stable in its
present form, Matt?” I asked to direct his obvious sadness onto present
concerns. He had seemed to regain some stamina over the past few days and moved
with more energy. The bad episodes had decreased in frequency.
Maybe he’s gathering his strength to lay old
regrets to rest down below.
He keyed my request into the
Stardancer’s
long-range scanners.
“Something must have happened…. Internal instability of the star has
accelerated and caused deterioration in the surface photon luminosity.
According to the instruments estimates, it has decreased by 1.2 percent in the
past thirteen standard months.”
Matt reported the ship’s findings
with a concerned frown. “The ship’s comp extrapolated from this data that the
planet’s climate experienced an unseasonable decrease in average surface
temperature by twenty degrees Celsius in the same time period. She’s also confirming
the earlier reports about a drastic decrease in all vegetation and animal life
forms. However, an oxygen atmosphere still exists. It’s thinner but breathable.
We won’t need air packs, but I’m taking them along, just in case.” His face was
expressionless. “The planet seems to be undergoing the initial stage of
glaciation common in dying systems. We’d better wear environmental protection
suits if we venture out down there.”
I nodded and kept silent, knowing
he was thinking about his family’s remains beneath the slowly changing world’s
surface.
Matt abandoned his seat abruptly.
“Let us go seek that which you think we’ll find,” he said in a rough-edged
voice, “and then we’re leaving here as soon as possible. I’ve no desire to die
here again.”
I glanced up in surprise at his
anger-narrowed eyes. His lips had compressed into thin, straight, disapproving
lines. His body was taut with unexpressed emotions.
I pushed to my feet. “Should we
program the
Stardancer
to start
landfall?” When I said “we,” I meant Matt. I merely watched while he piloted
the ship and preferred it that way.
“We suit up first,” Matt said in
through clenched teeth. “I will
not
chance an aborted landing a second time on that accursed planet and risk losing
you too.” He strode off, frowning at his dark thoughts, toward the environment
suits’ charging station, where they hung in the emergency supply compartment
located on the living area’s port side.
I followed while trying to ignore
the tight knot in my stomach at our imminent planet rendezvous.
Will the strange entity be there after all
this time
?
Or has it vanished long
ago? Have I brought him for naught?
I stripped off my thin-bottomed
slippers and blue coveralls, leaving me clad in magenta underpants, a matching
cap-sleeved, tight undershirt, and thick pink socks. Four environment suits,
ranging from medium to large, lay on four separate long shelves. I detached the
power-pac charger on a medium one that wouldn’t completely engulf me.
I’d reached for the gray
formfitting-but-flexible plastalloy suit when Matt’s cool touch grasped my
hips. Surprised, I turned, pulling the suit with me. It slid from the low shelf
and scraped briefly along the carpeted deck. Flecks gleamed in Matt’s pupils
and then dissolved into a green glow that entirely obscured and filled his irises.
Seconds later the eerie glow vanished and his eyes resumed their normal
appearance, with only the central flecks visible once more. This occurrence no
longer alarmed me as much, but it always made me pause and forget to breathe.
Matt had removed his tunic top, and
he drew me against his chest. His lips captured mine. My feeling for him hadn’t
changed. I wanted Matt inside me with all my being. His hands warmed as they
passed over my body with urgency. His lips grew more demanding and our tongues
locked. His rigid erection pressed against my stomach.
He pulled the gray environment suit
from my lax hand where I still grasped a sleeve, tossed it aside, and led me to
our cabin. On our sleep couch, we rediscovered our abiding need for each other.
He drove his shaft into me with fevered urgency. Craving more, I straddled him.
When we lay replete at last in each
others’ arms, Matt kissed my throat. Sudden tears prickled at my eyes and then
spilled over. He held me until they ceased falling upon his chest. The he
subjected me to somber scrutiny. His gentle hand soothed back my mussed curls
that had fallen forward, gotten drenched, and then had plastered onto my cheek.
“Always remember this, dear lady: I
love you here and now…. A’lia will always occupy a special place in my heart. I
cannot do otherwise.” He drew a deep breath before continuing. “But you are
everywhere within me, Kailiri. You’ve imprinted yourself indelibly upon my
consciousness and awareness. You’re a vital part of me…. I loved A’lia, and yet
I was never as intensely aware of her being and presence as I am of yours. Can
you accept and believe this?”
How
does someone tally up if they loved one person a little more or a bit less?
It was complex heart math. But people did it all the time, prioritizing and
evaluating their time investments and intrinsic returns on relationships.
I nodded miserable at his
revelations and my negative thoughts.
He gently cupped my face between
his hands. “Do not continue fighting shadows you cannot see, dear heart. Walk
in the freedom of the knowledge that you’re here and now always in my thoughts
and affection. Let not my moods shake that knowledge from you. They’re only
concerns and regrets for what occurred in the past, and my guilt at not somehow
preventing it.”
He kissed my temple. Then he moved
away and rolled onto his back. He lay contemplating the smooth metal ceiling.
Moments later, he left and disappeared into the cabin’s small bathroom unit,
leaving me alone with remembrances of his words and our feverish lovemaking.
He
did
love me. That I’d come to know during our close confinement
within the
Stardancer
. But did Matt
Lorins, once Lord Mattin Sian Rakeda, love me enough to fight against the alien
impossibility within him that was slowly dispersing his own life force?
I eased onto my stomach and frowned
down at my rumpled pillow. I puzzled at the paradox and improbability of the
conjunction inhabiting Matt’s body. I couldn’t understand the actual biological
mechanics of how an alien life force could fuse portions of itself within a
Human’s physiology to provide limited life energies. I’d devoted much thought to
that since Matt’s recounting upon Rikin. I’d wondered how much of his
personality came from alien derivation and how much of it was uniquely his own.
It was important because I loved all of him—the dark places and the places
where the light of his being shone.
Matt emerged from the bathroom and
covered my back with a soft, warm towel. I turned to look up. He appeared much
stronger, and after the freshening unit’s pressurized spray, his skin glowed
beneath his lingering tan left over from his previous planetary forays with
sunnier climates.
He sat beside me. “Forgive me, doll,
for delaying our descent by carrying you off to our cabin like this.” A sad
smile lurked in his dark eyes. “I had to make certain you understood the
difference between a buried love and a living treasure. Do you understand now?”
He ran a possessive hand along my bare legs where the towel didn’t reach.
“I think so, Matt,” I whispered and
sat up. I caressed his cheek and laid a light kiss upon his lips. Then I rose
with the towel clasped to me as I headed toward the bathroom cubicle for my turn
in the shower.
Chapter Ten
The
Stardancer
touched down on solid ground with only a slight shudder
vibrating throughout her frame.
Good
landing
, I thought, with my inexperienced opinion, but Matt looked grim as
he secured the ship for our departure for a brief planetary exploration trek.
“We’re sitting on top of ice,” he
muttered. “The ship will melt it, but I don’t like this. This planet used to
have seasons, but from the sun’s position, the ship comps indicates that this
should
have been the warmer, growing
season. We will look around and then we’re leaving as soon as possible.” His
glance shot over and settled with a meaningful, heavy frown on me. “If I’d
known the Universe was conspiring to send me a heart-bond mate with a wild
explorer spirit, I would have bought a terrain-rover to save us much time
scouting around out there.”
I turned away like I didn’t know
what he was talking about and slung the dark green weatherproofed supply bag
straps over my shoulder. The insulated bag bulged with water canteens, food
rations, a medical kit, and some light survival utilities that Matt had
insisted we carry along.
“I
will
not chance anything happening to you on this death planet,
Kailiri,” he’d grated through clenched teeth when I’d questioned these thorough
preparations, which seemed more suited to an Alliance Patrol planet scouting
expedition.
I was inclined now to agree as I
stared out the wide observation port at the low, gray skies scowling over snow-
and ice-covered ground, amid which twisted trees and shrubbery floundered. They
lay bent in defeated submission to the heavy ice glaze that weighed them down.
Matt came and stood behind me. He
slipped the supply bag from my shoulder and lowered it onto the deck. His arms
circled my waist and drew me against him. I leaned back into his embrace and
felt secure while we stared out the port window. We didn’t speak as we both
wrestled our private demons and emotions.
“Are you ready to leave, doll?”
Matt asked after several minutes had fled.
“Yes.” I turned and flung my arms
about his neck. My lips sought his as I rose on my toes.
More time fled during our
bittersweet, poignant kiss. Matt pulled his mouth away and smiled. His eyes
sparkled with amusement. “I asked only if you were ready to leave, not if you
were ready to say farewell to me forever. But I like this very much.” His
indulgent, teasing tone made me blink fast against threatening tears. Then he
returned my deep kiss and left me breathless and uncomfortably warm in my
insulated environment suit. “Put on your hood and gloves, Kai. We’re leaving
now.”
I had a small struggle coaxing the
tight hood over my accursed, buoyant curls, and Matt had lifted one dark
eyebrow and watched in silent amusement. Our insulated suits’ snug hoods
enclosed our heads and chins, leaving only small portions of our cheeks, noses,
and mouths exposed.
He retrieved the supply bag from
the deck and held out a gloved hand, which I grasped. The cabin door slid open,
and it was time to don life-support masks, if we had needed them. The ship’s
sensors had assured us the thin atmosphere was breathable. Matt, however, had
packed away auxiliary breathing masks complete with compact, hand-sized oxygen
generators inside our bag—just in case. We stepped into the small, lighted
airlock compartment and the cabin door closed behind, sealing us in.
The
Stardancer
equilibrated air-pressure differences. We moved toward
the outer hull door when a blue light flared on above it. The airlock’s outer
door slid open, and the ship extended her ramp stairs out onto the frozen
planet’s surface.
Icy air rushed inside the airlock,
and my environment suit’s heating elements kicked on.
Matt and I moved out of the
airlock. He gave me a somber look and led me down the ramp stairs. Our
footsteps rang hollow on the metal in the thick-bottomed, size-adjustable boots
that accompanied the suits. Our breathing formed brief white plumes on the air.
I was thankful for the insulated
suit’s thermal controls. The air’s frosty bite lashed at the exposed areas on
my face. It was tempting to punch the pulsating red dot on the suit’s regulator
controls on my left wrist up several more degrees, but I didn’t, mindful of
draining the suit’s power-pac too soon.
“It wasn’t cold at all when I was
last here,” Matt said. His voice fell flat and muffled upon the frigid silence.
“The trees were in bloom, and fields were covered in flourishing vegetation.
Something drastic must have happened inside the sunstar. I think the orbit is
slowly locking, and that eternal winter will reign here until the sun goes
through its final stages and eventually consumes this system in time. But life,
likely, will not ever return to this planet.”
The information didn’t cheer me.
We tramped through ankle-deep,
ice-crusted snow several paces from the ship while the
Stardancer
retracted her ramp and sealed the hull door. Matt didn’t
reset the ship’s locking code. There was no one here, except for us. No birds
sang and no tiny animals scuttled. The atmosphere was devoid of any sound and magnified
our boots’ loud, crunching progress through the thick, icy crust. It seemed as
if all life had truly died there.
Matt turned to stare across an area
far on our right and drew me in that direction. We moved carefully over a
snow-covered field. Remains of old ship wreckage was visible ahead beneath
layered ice glazes. Matt wore a preoccupied frown but remained silent. I knew
well what had happened over where he was trudging toward.
A fair portion of the ship appeared
intact where it rested not too far away. A gold-plated metal tail section rose
high, defying the flat, frozen plains. Dull surprise rattled me—I’d seen none
of this earlier from the
Stardancer’s
observation window. If I’d sat at the planet scanner monitor, I would have seen
it during landfall. We must have landed in an orientation that blocked this
view from immediate observation. I wondered if, maybe, Matt had meant for it
not to show.
We walked until we stood ten paces
away from where large, twisted metal lay clustered and rusting in our path. The
pieces must have separated from the main shell, which was closer now at perhaps
thirty paces away.
Matt stopped. “That was once the
Fire Dawn
, Kai.” His low voice was
hoarse.
I shivered to be near the scene
where a terrible tragedy years before had claimed lives and nearly taken his.
“I’m surprised it’s still here…. It
doesn’t look like any wreck scavengers were enterprising enough to cross the
Patrol’s system warn-offs and cart it all away for scrap.” His lips clamped
together. He squeezed my gloved hand before releasing it and walking forward
past shoulder-high, semicircular segments frozen in upright positions, seeming
to stand guard over the wrecked ship’s main shell.
I didn’t follow and Matt didn’t go
far.
He stood with his back to me. Only
by his incremental head movements could I detect he scanned across the field,
tracking the wide, iced-over land gouge that led to the partially intact shell.
Weathered, battered fins on the
main section’s hull structure drew my sad gaze. They
glinted
bright gold in various places along the fair-sized ship. Then my wondering
stare lifted to the gaping hole in the hull where the door hatch should have
been. Several thick port windows set into the hull were either missing or
jagged remnants. I wasn’t a seasoned spacer and knew little about ships, but it
was common knowledge that starship windows and hatches were almost
indestructible in order to withstand the rigors of space.
“I did that,” Matt said hollowly, his
voice startling me. He’d turned and caught my fascinated gawking.
He tramped back through the tall,
metal fragments to stand at my side. “After my unconventional recovery and
healing, I buried A’lia and our son. I went a little mad for a while before the
Patrol ship got here. I took my rage and grief out on what remained of the
Fire
Dawn
.
I also ripped out most of her interior.”
I looked at Matt,
then
averted my gaze from the naked pain visible in his eyes
as he stared toward the large shell. This was the first time he’d mentioned the
infant’s sex. I felt like an intruder standing there.
He moved away several steps and
seemed to search for a certain point along the main section’s hull. Long
minutes crept by wherein I battled reawakened jealousies for a dead woman and
resented my petty emotional failings in the process. Matt turned and strode
toward me, grabbed my hand with rough strength, and pulled me a short distance
away toward a small clump of bare trees and shrubbery.
What upset him
?
The snow layer in this area was
knee-deep. Tears occluded my vision on glimpsing a lone, tall white boulder
standing visible above the deeper snow line. Deeply incised etchings covered
one side.
We drew close enough to see the
rough engraving on the hard surface where a much younger and grief-stricken
Matt must have used a beamer to etch the words “Lady A’lia Mara Rakeda and Son.”
Beneath her name, a date was
inscribed, stating both her birth and death date. She had died on the Fifteenth
Day of the Eight Month of the Alliance Year 0178 A.I.C.
Something withered inside me and
stopped the tears.
My
marriage date
to Matt had been on the Fifteenth Day of the Eight Month in the Alliance Year
0192 A.I.C.
A’lia
died on that date fourteen years ago….
Was that why my Real Quiet One had
come to sit at the Lilith’s bar upon Harnaru, grimly drinking the deadly
combination of Crynishan Dawns and Zyran Kickers? Had the remembrance of the
anniversary of his family’s tragic deaths brought him there that night? Was that
why he’d reached out to one lonely, tired barmaid and married her in what he
knew were his final days?
Must get away from him.
I wrenched my hand from Matt’s grip and
awkwardly ran through the deep snow from him and the small grave.
“Kailiri!”
I ran on. Rapid
footsteps thudded behind me. The sounds of our boots crashing
through the ice and snow crusts fell loud and foreign in the lifeless silence.
Once, when his footsteps pounded closer behind, a burst of speed combined with
several long leaps helped me to escape. A glance back showed I had almost a six-yard
lead, but Matt was gaining fast.
He’ll
catch me in several seconds—need something to slow him down
. I bent
midstride and scooped up slush. My hands compressed the mess into an icy ball
as I continued fleeing.
Matt’s footsteps gained on me again.
I half turned and flung the hard missile with all my anger and hurt behind it
before sprinting off, sparing a momentary glance over a shoulder to see if my
ice ball had hit its mark. Dearleth had taught me that something small and hard
could knock foes off course or senseless.
“
Kai!
”
Outrage filled that yell,
but he’d dodged my missile.
Then it happened. One boot caught
on a submerged branch, and I went down. I scrabbled my way back to my feet and
began running again, but that stumble gave Matt enough time to overtake me. His
arms grasped my waist in a tight hold as he swung me off my feet. Anguished
betrayal fueled my frenzied struggle to wrench away. He held on despite my
snarling resistance.
“Stop it, Kailiri!” His glowering
frown indicated wrath. I didn’t stop, but he abruptly released me.
I backed away, breathing hard from
my exertions, and cast accusing glares at him. There was no need to shout. He
claimed he was sensitive to my thoughts.
He’d
better
know the source of
my
rage!
“There are no special, sacred days
to begin loving someone, Kailiri,” he grated out in a harsh voice as his chest
heaved with deep breaths. “It’s unfortunate I didn’t meet you upon any other
day than the anniversary of A’lia’s death. If it’s important to you, please
note that my marriage date with her was on the Eight Day of the Sixth Standard
Month in Alliance Year 0177. Does
that
ease some of your disappointment?”
A quick shame tide flooded me and
swept aside my rage. I turned away and stared unhappily across the white
landscape at the small red sun ember that valiantly strove to radiate ineffective
warmth and failing light through the gray clouds and frigid atmosphere.
“I showed you A’lia’s grave only
because I wanted you to understand the shadows in my past. I did
not
show it to you to hurt you. I
thought I’d made my emotions for you apparent before we landed. Do you have so
little faith in my love?”
“I’m sorry.” I didn’t turn to
encounter the fierce glare I was certain he’d fixed upon me.
“You’re apologizing—but for
what
?
For seeking to
come here to this world—or for doubting my heart bond with you?”
There
was suppressed fury in his harsh tone. Then he whispered, “Please, dear heart,
let us not continue like this.”
I turned around, and my breath
caught at the anguish in his tautly drawn expression. I went to him. What else
could I do? His arms enfolded me within a fierce embrace that nearly crushed my
breath from me despite my environment suit’s insulating layers.
“No more recalling ghosts from the
past, doll. You brought me here to seek life. Let’s go in search of renewed
life for me, then.”
I didn’t like the strange glitter
in his eyes. It was half cynical and partly remorseful, like his words. I
pulled away from his arms and swallowed hard. Then I took a deep breath and
forced out the admission I’d hesitated confessing after he’d allowed the
Stardancer
to access the A’lia files. “Do
you know what direction we should go to find your savior, Matt?”