The Loranth (Star Sojourner Book 1) (18 page)

“That's why he's under guard. Makes it either BS or prison for what I'm calling attempted homicide.”

“What attempted homicide?”

“I'm not here to discuss Officer Cole's condition with you. I want to know about this Kor.”

“Prison?” I turned. “You'd do that to one of your own? You're a son of a bitch police grunt and you'll never change.”

“For once you're right. I could turn him free. Of course he might kill you or himself, and I'd hate to lose a fine officer. But then I wouldn't be a son of a bitch police grunt. Just stupid.” He squinted up. “What does this crotemunging alien look like? Does he communicate in stelspeak?”

“He communicates with arrogance and power.”
You two should get along well,
I thought but didn't say. I stared out the window. Darkness there. “You want my cooperation, you tell those cloudweavers in BS to stay the hell out of Jack's head. Now where's my stingler?”

“In Evidence, with the radio wrist transmitter. Someday we'll talk about the tag who broke that code for you.”

I smirked. “Sure, Chief, right after I talk to the Leone Herald about the cave and the inhabitant who was wearing it when your people demanded that he come out with his hands up. Now goddamn it, I need that stingler.”

He shifted in his chair. “You need? Withholding evidence in this case'll get you a ticket to the asteroids faster than the McGrath killing. A few years cracking rocks might wipe that smirk out of your voice. Now where the hell's this alien?”

“Keep this in mind, Hallarin, he's not the alien. We are, and I don't know where he is.” I refused to meet his penetrating stare.

“You figure,” he observed, “you're going up to the reservoir like a one-man army with its head up its ass, and rid Cape Leone of this scourge.”

I sat heavily on the bed, watched him flick a fat stump of ashes toward a vac-tray that wasn't turned on. Ashes drifted like dirty snowflakes to the polished floor. “If anything happens to me, there's another Loranth, Val Tir Sye Morth. He's on our side.” I rubbed my eyes. “Earth's side.”

He paused with the cigar at his lips. “Kor said he's going after the Terran homeworld.”

I'll give Hallarin this, his expression didn't change. “That would be Earth,” he said. “How do I get in touch with this Val Tir tag?”

“You can't. But he might get in touch with you.”

“Does he have a comlink code?”

I shook my head wearily. I was surprised at the evenness of his tone, but I wasn't about to tell him that Morth was a spirit Loranth I'd met inside my head. I thought on permanent brain implants. “He'll contact you if and when he wants to.”

“What the hell does this croteshit Kor want, anyway?”

He hates,
I thought. “Revenge, I think. For the death of Carrier, but mostly for what he considers the desecration of Syl' Tyrria by the mere presence of a subspecies like Terrans.”

“Syl' Tyrria?”

I nodded. “Tartarus.”

“How's he figure on getting off-planet? He's a goddamn fish, ain't he?”

“I don't think he intends to physically leave the planet, but Morth believes he can somehow attack Earth. The Loranths are extremely powerful telepaths, Chief. Just how powerful…” I shrugged. “Kor's a psychotic killer. But just remember this, they're not all murderers. They have a culture, a history that probably goes way back. Maybe long before ours.”

“You figure you can stop Kor?”

“Well, after losing his Carrier because of me, and losing Christine and Thad too… Given the opportunity, I think he'll come after me, yes. Why? Are you thinking of using me as bait? It's not a bad idea. I'm willing to be bait.” I went to the door. “Will you give me back my stingler or do I have to buy another one? I don't like using Jack's credcount, but there's Gretch's stable fees and I -“

“Don't you ever shave or get a haircut?”

“What?”

Oh, Christ and Buddha. He had other plans. I was getting to know his techniques. “Only for weddings and funerals,” I said and walked out of the room. And into a spiker. Hallarin's spikers were stationed along the hall.

“And important meetings,” Hallarin added as I was escorted back into the room. “Get yourself showered and shaved and vib those clothes clean.” He checked his watch. “One hour.”

“A meeting? With whom?”

He went to the wall dispenser and poured himself a cup of black coffee, extra strong. Well, the hospital's water supply was self-contained from ocean filters. The units were too expensive for residential houses, but he was safe in drinking his coffee.

“Leone's council,” he said. “Administrator Adair, Institute security, department heads. Let me worry about with
whom
.” He took a sip. “You show up looking like a jungle juicer, they won't believe your story any more than I did.”

“You believed me. That's why you followed me to the reservoir.”

“I got to contact Earth Central, Worlds Court, Interstel.” He slammed down the cup. Hot coffee spilled on his hand. He didn't seem to notice. “This son of a whoring bitch-monger Kor thinks he can do whatever he wants to Cape Leone, and then fuck around with Earth! I'll blow this glotshit slimer all over Tartarus!” He picked up the cup for a drink, looked at it and threw it against the window. The night was stained. “I'll make fucking Loranth soup out of him!” His freckles got lost under flushed skin. I'd never seen such a display of emotion from the Big H. “Get going, Rammis!”

“Wait a minute.” I was between Hallarin and the door. I lifted a hand to stop him from leaving. The spiker behind me stepped quickly out of Hallarin's path. “Just wait a minute. Kor's crazy, but you're talking war on a whole race!”

He brushed aside my hand. “I'm talking defense. Nobody kills Terrans and gets away with it. Nobody makes us into zombies and walks away, or swims away, or whatever the hell he does. Nobody! Not in my jurisdiction they don't.” He shoved me aside and stalked out of the room.

I went after him. Two spikers flanked me. “Hallarin! Kor hasn't killed anybody yet.”

He turned, poked his cigar toward the closed door of a patient's room.

A spiker sat near the door. The sign said Absolutely No Visitors.

“Take a look at Saynes. They put her and Denning on dialysis. Purified their blood, all right, didn't do squat for her brain!”

I stopped.

“What's the matter, Rammis? Minute ago you were begging for your gun so you could go out and kill yourself a Loranth.”

“Quiet. Please!” The tired nurse hurried toward us. “You're disturbing the patients.”

“We're dealing with one criminal mind,” I told Hallarin, “not a race of assassins!”

“Suppose we let the Worlds Court decide that, if it's all right with you. Meanwhile -“

“I know you, Hallarin. Your report won't be objective. You'll slant it to instigate war against this indigenous race of Loranths.”

The look he gave me could have burned holes. “Meanwhile,” he said, “I'm keeping the town safe from those savages.”

“Mister Hallarin,” the nurse said. “Mister Rammis, either take your argument outside now or be quiet!”

“Savages?” I strode up to him. “The Loranths are a proud people. I learned that much from Morth. Too proud, maybe. But they're a powerful race. If they're threatened, Hallarin, they could be extremely dangerous.”

“Then it's time they felt our power. Kor used you for a goddamn slave! Where's your pride?” He turned and strode toward the stairs.

God! I had to stop Kor before this nightmare turned into war. I closed my eyes.
Morth? Morth! Where the hell are you?
I looked at the door Hallarin had pointed to.

Christine. I started for it. A spiker grabbed my arm.

“Showers are that way, tag.”

I threw off his hand. “Unless you intend to give it to me yourself, I'm going in there first to see Ms. Saynes.”

He glanced at his partner, who chuckled. “Sorry, Fred,” his partner said, “I'm not into scrubbing men's butts.”

“OK.” Fred checked his watch. “Five minutes.”

“Alone,” I said.

He nodded. “Me and Ted'll be waiting right here by the door.”

A doctor walked by and went into the room I'd just vacated.

I opened the door to Christine's room and closed it gently behind me.

The only light came from a small bedside lamp. The only sound was the quiet humming from wall machines behind the empty bed. There was an aroma of flowers.

She sat in a shadowed corner, gazing toward the curtained window.

The basket beside her chair brimmed with crumpled tissues. She looked up and I saw traces of guilt in her expression. “Go away. Please.”

I wouldn't have recognized her hoarse voice.

“It's over now, Chris.” I smiled, though her eyes were downcast. “We've been through a lot together, you and me.”

“It's over for you.” She rubbed her hands. “Go away, Jules.”

I picked up the card next to the red roses:

Dear Christie,

Welcome home! From all your friends in Life Sciences! Hey, kid, you'll do anything to get out of work! But seriously, don't worry about your dog, Dancer. We brought him to the animal shelter. They're taking good care of him. We know how much you love him. Come back to the salt mines soon! The other slaves here miss ya!

Love…

A list of names followed.

“Nice flowers,” I commented.

She looked up. “Funeral flowers.”

I waited for the shock to pass before groping for an answer.

“Whose, uh, whose funeral? Wouldn't mind if it was Sye Kor's, right?”

She slid a look to the bouquet. “My father sent them. He wants me dead.”

I sat down, the card held loosely in my hand. “I'll get rid of the flowers if you like.”

“It's not that simple. You have to cut them out with a knife and I can't find the roots. I think the roots are back on Earth.” She glared at me. “You think I'm crazy, don't you? But I'll tell you, I know what I'm talking about!”

“I believe you. You've been through hell, Chris. You need time, that's all. Time to heal.”

She smiled.

I smiled back.

Hers broadened to a laugh. I felt a chill as she leaned forward and fixed me with a desolate stare. “And you know all about hell, don't you?”

I shrugged and replaced the card. “It wasn't exactly a picnic for either of us.”

“You haven't skimmed the surface of hell, not until you know the suffering of demons weighted down by guilt, the denial of everything you can be. The power!” She sat back stiffly. “They think they saved me from hell. They'll never understand. And neither will you.” She stared at the roses with her brows knit. “If only you had defeated your own conscience, the way I did mine, we'd still be with the Master, and you'd understand the joy of real power.”

“I'd…I'd say real power resides somewhere next to the conscience. Wouldn't you?”

She laughed sardonically. “The Master always knew you were a spineless fool.”

I shifted uncomfortably. “Look, Chris, things'll get better in time. The hospital's got a good staff. Let them help you. I'll try to help you too.”

She smiled mysteriously. “Maybe you'll ask for my help instead.”

The door opened. Fred stuck his head in and pointed to his watch. “Two more minutes.”

“Give us another five.” I tried to convey a sense of urgency. “I take fast showers, Fred. Honest.”

He peered at Christine, then back to me. “OK, but that's it, or I'll be in trouble with you know who.” He nodded toward the hall for an exclamation mark and softly closed the door.

“You'd even forgive me, wouldn't you?” The smile still played on her lips.
Wouldn't
you?”

“There's nothing to forgive. We were both under his influence.”

“Oh! That's so noble of you, Jules. But then you were always kind, brave, concerned with doing the right thing. Caring about others. You know by instinct which path to take, don't you?”

“No, I don't.” I thought on small planes, and my sister, a weekend spent drinking with Jack while Randy got himself killed at the sanctuary, my family left behind, waiting. “No. I've made enough mistakes to fill a bigger basket than that one.”

She smiled benignly. “And you're sorry for every one of them. It makes your conscience sick with guilt just to
think
about them all.”

What the hell was she getting at?

“Look,” I said and glanced at the door, “we have to put our failures behind us and take life from right here, right now. What else can you do?”

“Every time I look at you, I want to laugh.”

“Chris, don't set me up as some kind of saint, so you can tear me down. I'm trying to help you. Dammit, that's all I ever tried to do!”

“Then help me, Jules,” she said intently, and gripped the armrests. “Help me the way I tried to help you.”

I looked at her suspiciously.

“Don't you remember? I drew you into the Master's home. I made you His slave.” She leaned forward. “I went after you when you escaped with Carrier. To kill you.”

“It was all under Kor's influence and command.”

“Was it?” She lifted brows and sat back. “He stopped me. He ordered Jack to kill you, but Jack was weak. Are you weak too?” she taunted.

I should have heeded the No Visitors sign. “You need more help than I can give you. As you get better, you won't feel this way.”

“How will I feel? Tell me. I really want to know.”

“That's probably up to you.”

“You see, I remember,” she said. “I remember all the lost years before the Master.” She stared at the roses, her dark eyes fixed on some inner torment. “Here, Christine,” she whispered, “drink guilt from this golden chalice, drink submission, child. Deny your self, your dancing, and drink fear. The Lord loves you, and He asks so little.” Her voice lowered. “Only your life and your soul.” She raised a hand to her swollen cheek. “Each sacrament was a blade cutting me into…fragments. Christine the faultless child of an upstanding church leader. That was one.” She smiled at the roses, reached out and touched one. Then ripped it off its stem. “All this I was…but what was I? Christine the ideal wife. That was another. My daughter is dead!” She glanced at me, startled, as though she'd forgotten I was there. “After the divorce my dear father threw me out of his house, out of his church, and out of his religious community. I have no daughter. My daughter is dead!” She leaned her head back and closed her eyes.