Halcyon Nights (Star Sojourner Book 2) (6 page)

She nodded and clung to my neck.

And then I'd leave. I should've never come! It wasn't Lisa the being wanted. It was me! I tried to project serene thoughts to her, found that I couldn't. I had led him to my daughter!

“Can I come outside with you, Daddy,” she said dully, her eyes half closed. “I won't cry. I promise.” Her breaths shuddered as she leaned her head on my chest.

I thought of shock.

“Sure, Squiggles, sure.” I rubbed her arm. “You can come outside with me, and it's all right to cry.” I smiled reassuringly. “Everything's going to be OK now.”

She drew back to look at me and chewed her lip.

“I love you, Lis'. I won't let anything happen to you.” I squeezed her against me. “Cross my heart. I'm going to put you down now so I can go get the shell.” I stared at it. Stuffing was hooked on its ragged edge.

“Will you hold my hand?” she asked in a tiny voice.

I smiled and brushed the tip of her nose with a finger. “I'll hold your hand.” I put her down, took her hand and picked up the shell –

Halcyon!

The word seared through me, seemed to pulse with the blood in my veins. I held onto the shell, Lisa's hand, and didn't physically react to spare her.

But she screamed and yanked her hand away. “Lis' – “

Only on Halcyon will she be safe.

Who? Not Lisa. Leave her out of this!

“Daddy.” Lisa crawled behind the chair. “Daddy!”

“It's…it's OK, baby.”

Use your tel power to search me out. On Halcyon. With the child.

No,
I cried within my mind.
I'll kill your ravager for you, but alone
. I dropped the shell, clutched my chest as the voice whirled through me like the dry ashes of an ancient grave. I felt it invade the chambers of my heart, pump through veins and suck my lifeblood. A cold hand clawed at my being.

With the child!

That same unrelenting melancholy, that death sense of eternal waiting, as though the dust of eons had settled into his thoughts, his mind.

Leave my daughter out of this!

Know that I can reach her. I will reach her, as I did the toy. If you do not bring her.

Why? Why her?

To end the Terran desecration of my world!

By who? This ravager? I said I'd kill –

The child too!
He imaged me a picture I will never forget. Lisa… A scimitar poised above her head as she huddled there against the chair, her small arms wrapped around herself, tears streaming down her face. The blade took form, reflected light.

And lifted. ”No!” I ran to her, tried to knock the blade aside. My fist bounced off steel. “I'll kill you, you crotemunger.” I pushed the chair away and scooped her up.
I'll make fucking amoeba soup out of you!

The sword flew across the room to slash a fireplace stone that shattered with the crash of an explosion. Shards flew, dust swirled in the heat of the fire.

Lisa screamed. She clutched at me, nails clawing my shoulders. “Daddy! Let's go 'way from here! Please!”

“We're going, Lis'.” I backed down the hallway to the front door. The sword followed.

I felt behind me for the pressure plate that opened the door, but couldn't find it. Either he'd torn it off or was blocking my mind. The image of a spaceship, a gypsy merchant, floated before my eyes.
The Merchant Prince
was painted on its stained and patched side.

Halcyon, Terran.

I flattened against the door as the sword glided closer. It lifted as though for a strike.

“All right!” I turned, to put myself between the blade and Lisa, though I knew it wouldn't save either of us.
How will I know you?

By your tel power.

I took a breath, tried once more.
The child will only hinder me from destroying the ravager. Without her along I can –

“Daddy!” Lisa shrieked as the sword suddenly pressed her side with the blunt edge. I tried to force the blade away, couldn't as it backed me into a corner.
All right!
I screamed within my mind.
Halcyon! Just get it away from her!

It remained there, an inch from her death as she shivered and clung to me.

Both of you
.

My gaze was riveted to the blade. “Both,” I whispered before he changed his mind and struck.
Both,
I sent and began to plan the silver being's death.

My legs started to shake. I leaned against the wall to maintain my balance and clutched Lisa against my chest. Could I trust this specter to keep his word and not harm my daughter if we went to Halcyon? He hadn't left me a choice.

The scimitar dissolved. I rubbed Lisa's back and stared at the torn doll.

“Don't leave me, Daddy,” she whimpered.

“No, Baby. I won't.” Not this time.

Twenty days out. And approaching Halcyon. I lay awake, breathing in the faint metallic smell of humming machinery, and stared at the ship's ribbed metal ceiling with its banks of blinking green lights that showed all is well.

Sure.

The Merchant Prince
re-entered the space-time continuum with great soft thuds that quivered through her hull, and rattled metal. I felt heavier as her old, grav stabilizers struggled to compensate. The reassuring whine of circulating air pumps was accented by snores from the five tags with whom Lisa and I shared these cramped quarters.

I rubbed my eyes and blinked, sleepless. Perhaps Tickbag was best off, iced in a cryogenic unit for the trip. Man and beast were not meant to live in tight geometric chambers of gray that shuddered down to erratic orbits around outback planets.

The new, dark-energy technology that encased starships in bubbles and made fast jumps, was still more for the big commercial liners that had the creds for such systems.

I'd hoped Tickbag's name wasn't an apt description of his condition when Lisa had hugged him all through the hovair ride to the Denver Spaceport. He'd wagged his tail and licked her face. It was damn expensive to take him aboard, what with decon and all, but what the hell? She had enough to face, so I sprang for the extra creds. Three lost sheep instead of two.

Lisa lay curled beside me on the narrow cot. I turned over carefully so as not to wake her, felt the scrape of cookie crumbs under me and brushed them off the dirty sheet. Even in sleep she clutched the stuffed brown bear she'd taken when we'd thrown her stuff into a backpack and fled minutes before Joe and Abby returned. There was a fear inside me that I knew would not let go until Lisa was back home and safe from the alien. It manifested as a dull ache that no amount of endorphol would cover.

I laid a hand across my eyes as the image of Joe's craggy face came to haunt me again, and wondered about the reward he must have posted for my head. Sans body. The W-CIA would be scouring Earth and her colonies for Lisa.

And me.

I could've used Joe's help, God knows, but I pictured the scimitar and the torn Cleocean doll. How would this powerful entity have reacted if I'd brought a former W-CIA agent along for support? It scared me to contemplate Joe's mood, his thoughts, even though there was no record of us boarding the ship and I'd never mentioned Halcyon to him. It scared me even more to anger the silver alien. And saddened me to think of Abby, forever sorry she'd convinced Joe to go out for an old-fashioned newspaper. How had the two of them broken this news to Althea? Althea…

Damn.

I'd signed the ship's log with Lisa as Heather Edwards, and myself as Chris Edwards. Anyway, these sulky pirates who plied the backwaters of space used names the way the rest of us use throw-away towels. The friendliest crew members were the mute 'bots with their chiseled metal smiles. But even if the ship got subspace Earthnews, their vis screens would only pick up static this far off the trade lanes.

And without pictures of us I figured we were safe. Still, the best laid plans… So plan B was to offer the ship's Master, who represented the owners, more creds than Joe's reward, in case we were somehow discovered and he decided to return us to Earth.

A sudden grav sink made me draw in a breath. It stabilized quickly, but Lisa cried out in her sleep. “Throw it away, Daddy! Throw it away!”

“Shut that kid up, will you?” somebody mumbled in his sleep.

“Daddy's here,” I whispered and stroked her blonde hair. “Go back to sleep, Lis'. Daddy's right here.”

She whimpered, then relaxed into sleep.

Halcyon. My fears glommed onto the unknowns awaiting us on this new world. I opened my mind to tel-links. Especially personal calls from the silver crote.

Nothing. I closed my eyes, sighed and began to drift off. Image of a voluptuous woman. Breasts of pure silicon. Lots of silicon. Her body straddled over – What the hell? One of the sleeping tags moaned. Dammit. I was tel-reading his dream. Well, I had to start somewhere. I slipped back into the dream, quieted my mind and focused, probed, into his vague thoughts and feelings. Passion. It was a very physical dream. After a while, I mentally tiptoed out.

A few days ago I'd experimented with my tel power by projecting the term
spacesuits
to the engineer. I'd cursed as he'd torn his gaze from the screens, glanced around and mumbled “Spayed goose? Wha?” Then I'd projected an image of a spacesuit, and he'd scratched his head, turned and left his station.

I'd followed him to where they kept the suits, watched from hiding as he carefully went through them, mumbling to himself, then turned and scratched his head again.

It seems that images, with a few key words, worked better when the probee was a non-tel.

Generally, though, the probee's mind was on more mundane things. Although one tag I'd probed fantasized about the embrace of a Vermakt hermaphrodite from planet Fartherland. Far be it for me to judge, but coupling with an alien that resembled a large gray bristly rat was not on my list of things to do.

And food. Speaking of which… It was morning, on planet Earth, anyway. Master Bjorn, whom I hadn't seen at all, sent an invitation for Lisa and me to join him for breakfast in his private cabin. Airchew had it that the Master talked to no one but God, and then only on Sundays.

Unless he wanted something? Was I being invited into a chess game? As a pawn in the shadow of the king? Decking rang under Lisa's shoes as she ran down the hall and leaped metal steps to Level D with her stuffed bear flopping under her arm. I trotted after her and nodded to scowling crew members. ”Li – Heather!” I called. “Squiggles! Wait up.”

She didn't.

“Dammit!” I caught up to her, grabbed her hand and led her to the Master's carved wooden door, which was as out of place on this scow as a prince among frogs.

Lisa knocked. “Mister Master, it's us!” She leaned against the door, panting, and ran a finger through a series of engraved designs. “Look, Daddy, it's a ghost. See, here's its eyes.” She poked at two protuberances.

The door suddenly opened and she fell onto a plush white carpet. I picked her up and set her on her feet.

Master Bjorn put down his systems remote and smiled through an impeccably trimmed brown mustache and beard. He tilted his chin up and gazed just above my head. “Welcome, Mister Edwards,” he said.

Lisa giggled at the name. I took her hand, gently yanked, and she stopped.

“So glad you could come.” The hint of a smile brushed Bjorn's pallid lips as he checked his watch. “And on time. Actually, two minutes early.” His voice sounded older, coarser than his features indicated. Dressed in a white jacket and pants, he was as tall and straight as a column. He rubbed a thumb across an intricate gold key he held in one gloved hand. “Come in, please.”

“Thank you.” I caught a faint smell of lemons as we entered his stately cabin. Probably furniture polish.

He closed and locked the glass door on a magnificent grandfather clock in an alcove of the cedar-paneled room. Delicately, he removed his white gloves, then came and shook my hand, very lightly, as though not relishing the touch.

“Heather.” He bent stiffly from the waist and patted her on the head, gazing just above her. She extended the stuffed bear for a pat but he ignored it.

“Look, Daddy. Look at the stars!” Lisa ran to a porthole, the first I'd seen on the
Prince
, and grabbed the rim to pull herself up. With re-entry, the stars were visible again. “Look at the stars, Piggy,” she told her bear.

Master Bjorn strode after her, took her by the wrist and shook a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe the bronze rim. He flicked me a distressed look. “Make yourselves comfortable. Please!” He gestured sharply toward chairs whose polished frames gleamed, then led Lisa to the table.

Gold-filigreed dishes and cut crystal shone in light from the tinkling chandelier as the ship continued to rumble down to orbital velocity around Halcyon. The delicate strains of classical guitar music emanated from hidden wall speakers. Water droplets shook down from live plants to real wooden trays below. I watched a white bird peck seeds in his golden cage. “A cockatoo,” I said, surprised.

Bjorn smiled proudly. “Possibly the last of its species, still grown from an egg, that is.”

“Yes, cloning rare species is a continuing story back on Earth.” I caught myself tip-toeing across the white carpet. I brushed off Lisa's pants, lifted her to the chair and sat close beside her, close enough to grab her if she started toward one of the antiques. “Put Piggy under the chair, Heather.”

She did. “Master Born,” she kicked the chair leg with her heel, “are we having lemons for breakfast?”

Bjorn winced.

“That's Master
Bjorn,”
I corrected. “Stop kicking, Heather,” I said between teeth.

Master Bjorn's head tilted further. “No, child, my personal robot just oiled the furniture by a time-honored method.”

Lisa looked at me and giggled. “With lemons?”

I saw Bjorn's jaw muscle twitch as he sat down. His pale blue eyes flicked a glance to the vis set, as though waiting for auto to engage and apprise him of some important event, maybe a kidnapping back on Earth? Was it possible – the knot in my stomach tightened – that viscasts could be bounced from trade lane transmitters as far out as the circuitous route we'd taken, complete with photos? Or had he caught a newscast about us from Halcyon's spacecom link, now that we were so close to the planet? Kidnapping stories didn't usually make stelnews, but there could well be a large reward involved here.

Croteshit. Then why this little game? To be certain it was really me? And Lisa? Maybe deal, since he probably knew about the Humanity Award and my cash prize. Or was I getting paranoid? I pictured my mental shields, lowered them and closed my eyes as I probed.

Lilies.
An image of lilies. The woman in the coffin is white-haired, dressed in a white gown. A bouquet of gilded lilies lies across her chest.

I opened my eyes and looked at Bjorn. He sat very still, staring at his place setting. There were hand-painted lilies on the dishes. He saw me watching and his expression hardened.

“Elegant quarters,” I said.

His features softened and he nodded. A shiny gold-plated 'bot rolled into the room with covered trays and set them on the table.

“Yes, Mister Edwards.” Bjorn glanced at his watch and frowned at the 'bot. “You're four minutes late!”

The 'bot bowed his head. “Forgive me, Master.” His voice was programmed much too high and squeaky for his bulky body. “My wheels froze and had to be oiled.”

But Bjorn had already ignored the 'bot. “It has taken me years to collect the items you see here,” Mister Edwards. That clock, for instance, is – “

Lisa climbed to her knees on the chair and leaned over the table to sniff the tray.

Bjorn's eyes flickered wide.

“Sit still, Heather!” I whispered.

“I just wanted to
see.
” She slid down into the chair.

The 'bot extended a burnished claw and lifted the tray's cover, revealing a plate of puckered sliced meat, mushrooms stuffed with something green, long vegetables, marbled pasty lumps and white grooved pulpy things. There was a pitcher of milk and one of coffee.

“Yuck!” Lisa whispered to me as the 'bot filled her dish and poured her a glass of milk.

Yuck indeed.

“Heather, remember what I told you,” I cautioned. “We're guests here.” I'd eaten worse on Syl' Tyrria, and in some fashionable restaurants back on Earth.

She lowered her head and softly kicked the table leg. ”Sliced beef tongue, Master Bjorn,” the 'bot bleated and pointed to the puckered meat.

A smile creased Bjorn's cheeks.

“Broiled stuffed mushrooms Pierre,” it squeaked and Bjorn's smile deepened. ”Pickled poached rhubarb, Master. Sautéed goose livers and oyster balls with chopped kelp.” The 'bot extended a delicate claw and pointed to the white pulpy stuff. “Baked lamb brains and eggs. And your personal Lafroygue.” He set a bottle of wine on the table.

For breakfast?
I thought, and wondered what he ate and drank for dinner. Bjorn's smile showed teeth. He flicked me a look, nodded to the food in a gesture that implied
enjoy.

I swallowed, nodded back as the 'bot filled my dish.

“Daddy, I don't want – “

“Be quiet!” I said. “Just…be quiet, Lisa. Eat the long vegetable.” How bad could pickled poached rhubarb be? Anyway, this too shall pass. I poured myself coffee. Bjorn nodded to his metal servant. It bowed from a segmented waist and rolled out noiselessly on its newly oiled wheels.

Lisa poked her fork into the rhubarb. She pointed to the Lafroygue with her chin. “What's that pig drink, Daddy?”

“Heather,” I warned through teeth, though I'd tried the liquor once. My connoisseur friend Jack Cole's treat. Stuff tasted like a burning peat bog.
Should go well with this meal,
I thought.

Bjorn extended a poised hand toward the grandfather clock. “It's an original Ries Augusta, Mister Edwards. The pendulum is stabilized by a Potentializing Internal Transgravitational unit.”

“Ah.” I nodded appreciatively and wondered what the hell he was talking about.

He gestured toward the plants with his fork. “And those bonsai Brazilian wax palms are among the last of their species.”

“Impressive,” I said. “That's why we're going to Halcyon.” I watched for his response.

“Can I pet your bird?” Lisa hit the glass of milk with her elbow as she pointed to the bird. I heard Bjorn gasp as I made a grab for the glass. Caught it too.

“You may
not
,” Bjorn said, a hand pressed over his heart. He took a long breath. His gaze lowered to meet Lisa's eyes. “The bird does not
like
to be touched.” He stared at nothing for a moment, then blinked his eyes to focus. “Halcyon, Mister Edwards? For the flora and faunae?”

I rubbed Lisa's shoulder. “For the chance to work with a natural biosystem,” I lied. “I'm an astrobiologist. There's very little left on Earth for me. Or for a growing kid.”