Inherit the Stars (23 page)

Dunaar pointed at Sar, and the other Proselyte jabbed a thumb behind Sar's right ear. Clenching his jaw, Sar squirmed in the chair. Nerve endings burned along his back.

“You resist because you think that I will kill you afterward. Or Shekelor, since he will take possession of you once I am satisfied.” Dunaar stroked Zhara's cheek and sniffed her mane. “There is nothing noble about being a fool, Sar. Think about the innocents who have perished in Thede terrorist acts. The brave troops who gave their lives defending the faithful from your ilk.”

A Proselyte pinched a nerve on Sar's left wrist. Fiery pain raced up his arm and blazed in his chest.

“I see mutation in your eyes, Sar,” Dunaar said. “Had the Inheritors policed your homeworld earlier, you would have been born whole. You could have been something greater than a mere rebel. Caitrynn could have lived a long time—”

“You made me what I am!” Sar shouted. “By invading Freen, you son of a bitch! Killing my sister, killing—”

Grabbing Sar by the hair, Dunaar faced him nose to nose. “How many more would die if I allowed every world to decide its fate? How many children would starve, how many would fall in senseless wars? Millions! How long will you remain blind? The Vim are our only hope. Eventually we will destroy ourselves in this small, galactic spiral arm. We human beings were meant for
something greater. We were meant to rise above this prison!”

“You built this prison, but people will rise and cut you down,” Sar said through gritted teeth.

“Not after I have annihilated your friends. Consider all the minds you have poisoned, all the lives lost due to your sinful practices! What have the Thedes accomplished but the spread of suffering and hate? Look at my flabby face, my sweaty brow. A Thede bomb irradiated my glands as a boy. All my life I have hated your kind. You are scum, less than human. If not for the Vim and their prophets, you would still be living in mud huts or hiding in caves!”

Sar spat in Dunaar's face.

Both Proselytes throttled Sar. Fists pummeled his face, struck his chest. Blood and drool flew from his mashed lips. Dunaar shouted into his ears; the Rector's spittle and sweat splattered Sar's neck. All the while, Sar focused on the woman he loved, the one who'd wanted him to finish something, to stop running.

“Shekelor told me all about Caitrynn.” Dunaar smacked Sar in the head with the stone staff. “He told me quite a bit about Kivita.” He rapped the staff against Sar's knees. “Do you see a pattern here, Sar? Your hatred, your sin, has destroyed all that you love. By the Vim, I shall not allow you to destroy any more lives. All those thousands that perished on Sutara, and for what? Do you hear?”

Trembling in agony, Sar shook his head in the negative.

Dunaar laid the staff across Sar's neck and rammed his head into the back of the chair eight times. “Do you hear? Do you?” he screamed in Sar's face. Sweat
coursed from Dunaar's hands and down Sar's numb, swollen face.

Old, raw emotions cracked open Sar's heart. Dunaar was right, just like Shekelor. Sar had planned to use Kivita, had endangered her. Even now Cheseia might be delivering Kivita into Inheritor or Sarrhdtuu hands.

She might be dead, or undergoing far worse horrors than his own, all because he couldn't control his selfish hatred. Sar squeezed his eyes shut. Tears still stung his bloodied eyelids.

“There, my son,” Dunaar whispered, caressing Sar's curly head. “You are brave enough to face the truth of your foul endeavors.” He stood before Sar and sighed. “He is ready. Open Bredine's cell.”

One Proselyte opened the green-eyed woman's cell and nudged her forward.

Dunaar sat back on the stool, sweat pooling under his jowls. “Decode his brain. Find out what he knows about Kivita Vondir.”

Bredine paused, then grabbed Sar's head in both hands. Sar waited for something to hit him, cause pain, or at least make his skin crawl. Nothing but a low throb traveled through his cranium. Bredine moaned and took deep breaths.

Numb with pain, Sar tried to resist, but Bredine cupped his head with surprising tenderness. Layers of memory peeled away as a distant whooshing entered his ears. The room faded as he lost himself in more pleasant recollections.

In reverse, Sar remembered his last moments with Kivita before leaving Tejuit. She'd almost told him she loved him; he was sure of it.
Their hungry kisses after the argument on
Terredyn Narbas
, rescuing her on Vstrunn,
watching her chest rise and fall as she breathed through the mask. Exploring the ice cap on Gontalo together, then throwing snowballs at each other. Making love to Kivita in his hammock aboard
Frevyx
with the gravity turned off, her hands gripping his buttocks, her mouth melded with his. The first emotional stirrings toward her as they escaped the derelict near Xeh's Crown.

The room faded back into view, along with his aching body. Dunaar watched him like a starving madman.

Bredine shook as she drew back. “So gushing hot. Hmm.” She bumped against his right wrist.

A Proselyte shoved a finger in Sar's ear and pinched a nerve on his neck. Sar screamed, his limbs jerking in the restraints.

“Leave him be,” Dunaar said in a casual voice. “Though you aren't a Vim datacore, Sar, Savants can still access your memories. My predecessors learned long ago how to train these mongrels to wrest information from others.”

“What good will it do you?” Sar managed through stinging lips. He wasn't sure if the Proselyte's nerve attack or Bredine invading his mind made him shudder.

“He's in love. Love, love, love. Gushing hot in void cold, yes. Gushing hot with Kivita. Love with a Savant, Rector. Food? Food, food, food.” Bredine pointed at herself and the five inmates.

Dunaar looked bored. “Don't look so shocked; Cheseia told me of your affair with Kivita. You took the mission to Vstrunn rather quickly, as I had hoped. Yet it was not meant to be. Kivita will enter my Savant breeding program as a host for my children. Imagine how much she will enjoy that.” He chuckled.

Sar scowled at Dunaar. “Why the Sarrhdtuu?”

“Zhhl wants her, and once she births a few of my children, she will have served her purpose. Be content that Kivita fulfilled a role in guiding us to the sainted Vim. You should feel blessed being on the periphery of such a historical figure.”

Emotion rose in Sar's chest again. Kivita might have fulfilled so much more. Seeing all those memories . . . all those precious, irreplaceable moments. He still loved Kivita, still had to hope she might make it. A reserve of strength he'd never realized existed blossomed into his limbs.

“Golden capsule? Hmm. Kivita slept in void cold. From baby to woman in golden capsule.” Bredine backed away as a Proselyte motioned her back to her cell.

“Never worry, my son, for—”

Sar wrenched his head away from Dunaar's hand. “Go to hell.”

Dunaar snapped his finger at the Proselytes. “Place him in cryostasis after he cannot scream anymore. Then you may tell that pirate he may claim him.” He smoothed his robe and left the room. Zhara shot Sar a remorseful glance before the two soldiers elbowed her after Dunaar.

Gritting his teeth again, Sar prepared himself. As he flexed his fingers, the restraint over his right wrist loosened where a sharp bolt brushed his knuckles. He glanced at Bredine. She watched him with anxiousness, standing before her open cell.

The first Proselyte aimed a finger at Sar's ear again. As the gloved digit neared him, Sar wrenched his right hand free and shoved the bolt into the Proselyte's neck. Hot blood sprayed Sar's hand. The man jerked back and fell.

The other Proselyte backhanded Sar and pinched his left shoulder. Every nerve on his left side ignited in white-hot pain. Sar screamed and tried to punch, but his strike went awry.

As the wounded Proselyte writhed on the floor, the other Savants whimpered in their cells. Sar gasped and reached for the ankle clamps, but the second Proselyte kicked Sar's hand away and reached for the door alarm.

Bredine slammed her foot into the Proselyte's side, then punched his jaw. Sar tried to work the other clamps loose while the Proselyte rapped Bredine's left temple. She wobbled and slumped against the wall as Sar ripped away his ankle clamps. The Proselyte rounded on him.

Sar worked his left arm free just as the Proselyte punched. Ducking, Sar jabbed the man's stomach. Bredine strangled the Proselyte from behind as Sar rammed the flat of his palm into the man's nose. A crunch, a grunt, and the Proselyte struck the floor.

Without flinching, Bredine bent over and snapped both Proselytes' necks. One of the male Savants wept, and another urinated in his cell.

“Hmm. Too far gone. Gone, gone. Leave them here?” Bredine pointed at her fellow inmates.

His entire body aching, Sar caught his breath. “Guess so.” A shiver rippled along his shoulder as the nerves finally settled.

Bredine looped his left arm around her slim shoulders. “Food, food, food,” she muttered, gazing up at Sar with hope.

“Just help me get this guy's uniform on before they come back,” Sar said.

Seul took shallow breaths as Vuul stared her down on
Aldaar
's bridge. Fresh out of her polyarmor, she felt nude in the presence of the operations staff and two squads of armed Troopers. Qaan and the other Archivers brooded nearby, sharing worried glances. Why were they all wasting time? They needed to act.

Kivita needed her.

“Why did you not fire upon
Terredyn Narbas
before it made a light jump from the Tejuit system?” Vuul's tone stole the air from the bridge. “A crippled, unarmed vessel. Why, Captain Jaah?”

“Inheritor ships had already entered the system.” Seul's cryoports tightened. “I thought it best—”

“You were under orders, Captain Jaah. When under orders, you do not think. You act.”

“Someone captured her before my squad arrived, Commander Vuul. The main Inheritor battleship has just exited this system, while their other ships remain. That can't be a coincidence. Kivita is important to them. She must be aboard that battleship.” Seul wished Kael could be at her side, but she didn't want him to face Vuul's wrath, too.

The operations staff looked at one another with pinched expressions. One of them cleared his throat and spoke.

“Commander Vuul, Captain Jaah may have a point. The basis for the Vim signal we detected from Vstrunn contained a powerful brain-pulse signature. It came from a Savant of a magnitude never recorded. This signal contains the coordinates taken by the Inheritor battleship.”

Vuul's brows knitted together. “So you theorize that the Inheritors plan to use Kivita Vondir for more such signals?”

The three Archivers talked among themselves.

“Well?” Vuul glared at the Archivers.

“The Inheritors are known only to execute Savants, though intelligence reports state that they may keep some in captivity,” Qaan replied.

Seul almost stepped forward, then remembered herself. “But the Inheritors hired Kivita—”

“There can be no doubt they are mounting an assault on our worlds. Any warning message sent will not reach Aldaakian Space in time.” Vuul's words left a tense silence on the bridge.

Seul waited out of respect and protocol, but she burned inside. Didn't he understand what was at stake? Without Kivita or the Vim, there would soon be no Aldaakian worlds to defend. Bravery and discipline were no longer enough. Her people needed help this time.

“Your orders, Commander Vuul?” one of the staff asked.

“
Aldaar
will pursue the Inheritor battleship. Kivita Vondir must be eliminated.” Vuul paced the bridge, hands behind his back.

A weight plummeted in Seul's gut but she gazed at Vuul, unflinching. “Commander Vuul, Kivita is the very thing all Aldaakians have been hoping for. We must save her.”

“We cannot engage in combat with such a larger ship,” one of the Archivers mumbled. “It measures over four thousand feet and bristles with kinetic gun batteries. One broadside from it would cripple us.”

“We should retreat to Aldaakian Space and regroup with our fleets, Commander Vuul,” a staff officer said. “To follow that battleship would be suicide. Kivita Vondir's fate is out of our hands.”

Qaan straightened. “No. She cannot be allowed—”

“You all have your orders.” Vuul sat in his command chair.

Seul's cryoports clicked shut, and she stepped before Vuul's chair. “We have fought for our survival for centuries, and adapted our race to starships and cryopods, just to keep running? Niaaq Aldaar never retreated. He fought the Sarrhdtuu against all—”

“That is enough, Captain,” Vuul said.

“It is never enough! We've allowed the Sarrhdtuu to corner us here in the Cetturo Arm. This is our one chance.”

Vuul rose from the chair, white-within-azure eyes receding into a contorted face. “Are you implying I am unfit for the command of this vessel?”

Seul met his stare. “I'm saying we follow those coordinates and help Kivita, Commander Vuul. How can we stand by and argue while the Inheritors—and perhaps the Sarrhdtuu—rush to those same coordinates? What if they lead to a Vim ship or a colony? What if the Vim
appear, after so long an absence, and their old allies are not there to stand with them?”

“I am not a coward!” Vuul roared.

“Then what is it you fear?” Seul asked.

Troopers and operations staff gaped at her.

“They must know . . . Commander Vuul,” Qaan said.

Vuul turned his back on Seul. “Tell them,” he whispered.

Qaan clasped his chit booklet in both hands. “Before the Fall of Khaasis, the Sarrhdtuu had difficulty in defeating our fleets. Our Troopers prevailed; our vessels held firm. We took the battle to them, thus safeguarding our worlds. It was our undoing.”

Everyone on the bridge listened, as still as cryo ice sculptures. Seul's anger subsided, and her cryoports relaxed. The Fall of Khaasis had always been blamed on Sarrhdtuu aggression; this information wasn't part of the Archivers' curriculum.

“In our zeal we left the Vim undefended. We left Khaasis undefended.” Qaan raised the booklet over his head, and his normally rough voice cracked. “Undefended not from starships, but from within. They turned our ships against us, controlling our vessels by thought alone. We underestimated the Sarrhdtuu. They used human Savants to undermine and weaken us.”

“Kivita activated the Vim signal. She isn't being used by anyone,” Seul said.

Qaan continued as if she'd not spoken. “The Sarrhdtuu crushed any who made a stand. Niaaq Aldaar and his Troopers held off many ships while the survivors escaped in colony-ship caravans . . .”

Vuul turned back around, an ageless guilt in his eyes.
“A Sarrhdtuu fleet attacked our ancestors. Something caused many of their ships to crash into one another. An image was transmitted to some of the surviving craft.” He nodded to Qaan, who opened his chit booklet.

The display screen inside the booklet showed a bloodied human male wrapped in gray-green coils. He knelt on what appeared to be the deck of a Sarrhdtuu ship. The agony on his face made Seul's cryoports clamp shut.

In the human's hands was the Juxj Star.

Seul blinked. Kivita had shown impressive piloting skills over Umiracan and Tejuit—too impressive for a salvage trawler to handle, much less while damaged. No. Kivita had to be the one.

“I have kept watch over Vstrunn for decades,” Vuul said. “Now you know why I have attacked any humans who made it off the planet's surface. Those the Kith did not kill, we eliminated. The Juxj Star was safe.”

“We have guarded the very thing that might have destroyed us and the Vim. It might yet destroy us.” Qaan's shoulders sagged.

“Perhaps we are destroying ourselves.” Seul's fingers brushed her cryoports.

The tension on the bridge gave way to shamed, crestfallen visages. Even before Seul's birth, Archivers surmised that the Aldaakians had failed the Vim, failed to fight the Sarrhdtuu with every last ounce of Aldaakian blood. So many worlds had fallen, so many fleets reduced to space dust.

It would end. No more running. Seul swore it. The silent oath filled her with strength.

Vuul said nothing and stared at a flat display.
Reaching out toward him, Seul hesitated. What was she doing? Kivita wouldn't have hesitated. A well of inner strength burst forth and she touched his shoulder.

“Let us investigate Kivita's signal. She isn't the enemy. Let us reclaim the honor of our ancestors, but not for ourselves. For those who come after.”

“Have all crew wakened one hour before we exit the jump,” Vuul finally said in a low voice. “Send a message to our people that
Aldaar
is taking action, and then follow that battleship's last beacon trajectory.”

The operations staff lost their stunned looks and obeyed Vuul's orders. Within moments
Aldaar
shuddered as it made a light jump.

“To your cryopods, everyone.” Vuul glanced at Seul. “Save for you, Captain Jaah.”

While everyone else filed out, she maintained her erect stature.

The bridge door hissed shut, and running lights dimmed as
Aldaar
prepped to shut down life support. The entire crew would enter cryostasis this time.

“I know you're not a coward,” she whispered, eyes forward.

“And I know the hope you hold out for this human woman,” Vuul whispered back. “Once, I too possessed similar hopes.”

They looked at each other.
Aldaar
's running lights illuminated Vuul's face in forlorn, blue-gray shades.

“Only once?” Seul asked.

Vuul looked away and placed his hands behind his back.

“Captain Jaah, you will have overall command of Shock Trooper squads, should the need arise to engage
the enemy. Find Kivita Vondir and the Juxj Star. The order for her execution . . . is rescinded.”

Seul nodded and gesticulated between her chest cryoports, a new strength blazing into her heart. “It is done, Commander Vuul.”

For the first time, Vuul smiled at her.