Keltan's Gambit: Chronicles of the Orion Spur Book 2 Page 10

  Setha nodded and dismounted from the vehicle, starting towards the structures.

  “How?” Agent Khepria hurried to catch up.

  “As a girl I bathed in a Pool of Shakrath on Savorcha.”

  “And that let you do that?”

  “It infused me with psycho-reactive Cephalon nanomachines capable of manipulating quantum particles.”

  “That is—amazing. What else can you do?” Khepria asked.

  “You may see, perhaps.” Setha gestured and Tengu bounded off the skiff after her. Ichiro followed with the jinzōbushi behind.

  The closer they got to the odd, white buildings the heavier the smell of sulfur hung in the air. By the time they reached one of the spiral structures the stench was suffocating. He put on his helmet and activated the armor’s air filtration system. He was about to direct a jinzōbushi to get a breather for Agent Khepria, but she produced one from her uniform and put the membrane over her mouth and nose. It cinched tight against them, bonding with the skin on a molecular level. Setha, he noted, did not do the same.

  She touched the white wall of the structure and the material flowed out like hot wax forming an aperture large enough for them to walk through. Beyond was a rounded passage that followed the curve of the building up in a spiral ramp. Setha and Tengu proceeded to scale it without hesitation, so Ichiro signaled for his robot guards to wait outside and followed with Agent Khepria.

  “What is this place?” she asked, her voice muffled by the breather.

  “The Cephalon Temple at Elmorus.” His voice was raspy through the speaker in his helmet. “This is the only place on this world that one might find Savorchans.”

  “What are Savorchans doing here?”

  “Penance,” Setha said from further ahead of them.

  “Penance?” Khepria received no reply from Setha and he didn’t know enough about the punishment to explain it.

  They emerged from the tunnel into a chamber about four meters wide with smooth white walls that made him feel like he was standing inside an eggshell. Decorating the gray floor was a mosaic of brown and yellow tiles. It depicted something like an octopus with a shell and twelve segmented tentacles. The alien creature appeared to have hundreds of eyes in two round clusters on either side of its bulb-like body and a round, spiral mouth between them.

  Seated on two broad chairs above the mosaic’s head were a pair of Savorchans dressed in green loincloths that tinted the ground beneath them with faint light. Each had blue wraps around the end of their long, muscular tails and the larger one bore a cape draped about his pearl-plated shoulders. The smaller Savorchan flowed to his feet at their approach, the yellow-veined muscles visible between the plates of his exoskeleton shifted until he stood two-and-a-half meters tall on two trunk-like legs. The eyeless dome of his potato-shaped head swept back and forth across Ichiro’s company. The four holes in his crown and the pulsing, fleshy nostrils beneath were visible as he bowed low to them.

  “This is Vicor Iton,” Setha translated the ultrasonic language. “And this is Prior Agon, head of this temple.” She gestured to the larger Savorchan. “They welcome you and extend the Baron Mitsugawa their wishes for good health.”

  He bowed. “Thank you.”

  Setha put the sarkh before her, holding it with both hands, and her eyes pulsed with ectoplasmic light. She stepped forward with her head bowed, but the Vicor raised his four-digit hand and pushed her back. His tail swished back and forth behind him in an agitated fashion.

  Ichiro’s gut tightened the moment the Savorchan touched her. He grasped Hoshinagi and took a step forward, gritting his teeth. Setha’s mouth hung open for a moment, her hair rippled in sync with the Vicor’s tail. Agent Khepria reached down to her belt, taking hold of the borrowed pistol’s grip. He thumbed the guard of his sword, uncertain what had just occurred and unsure of his response. Had they just assaulted his love?

  “Ichi, stand down.” Setha closed her mouth. A grim expression descended on her face.

  “What is happening?”

  “Nothing. Please ignore it,” she said.

  “Nothing?” He looked up, stone-faced at the larger Savorchan still seated. “Is this how you treat your guests?”

  The big Savorchan leaned forward, pointing the four, tentacle-like fingers of his hand in his direction.

  Setha sighed. “Prior Agon asks that you state your business, or draw your weapon.”

  He was tempted to but his father’s voice in his head cautioned him to act like a leader, not a mindless thug. Shamed by it, he forced himself to let go of Hoshinagi. With a nod from him Agent Khepria released her hold on the gauss pistol.

  “We are here to obtain your cooperation. We were stranded here when the Broghites invaded, and I am told you have a means to get us off-world.”

  The Savorchans titled their heads towards one another. After a moment, the Prior’s cranial holes pulsed again.

  “We control the gate to the heavens,” Setha translated, “and yes, we can place you anywhere you desire.”

  “My people need to make use of this gate,” he said.

  Setha listened for a moment, then sighed. “He says you never will.”

  Ichiro scowled. “Why not? What is your price?”

  “He says—” she paused, her body almost sagging on her sarkh.

  “What?” He asked her.

  “He says my father has misinterpreted prophecy, and I should never have been given the Cephalon gift. He says that I am an abomination, and as long as you stand with me you will never access the Cephalon Gate.”

  Ichiro scowled.

  “That cannot be true.” Agent Khepria’s ears danced. “What kind of religion would call a girl and abomination?”

  “One that views its existence as a punishment for past wrongs.” Her tone morose, Setha shook her head. “If you left me here—”

  “That is not going to happen.” His jaw bulged as he clenched it.

  “Ichi, we won’t get to leave without it. We have no FTL ship, the logical choice here is—”

  “It is out of the question.” He felt anger struggling to break through years of stoicism within him.

  His tone seemed to spark some life back into Setha. “It makes sense—”

  “You and I are leaving this place together, no matter what they say. I did not come here to abandon you.” He looked up at the two Savorchans. “If they won’t help at any price, we’re done here.”

  The prior rose to his feet and held up a hand.

  “He asks you wait,” Setha translated.

  “For?” Ichiro glowered.

  She took a deep breath. “He says you’ve come a long way and should not let Irin’s error interfere with negotiations.”

  “I thought you said they won’t negotiate.”

  “I didn’t think they would.” Her lips pressed together.

  “What does he want? If he says you, we’re through here.” He was through being polite with these beings.

  The Savorchans’ cranial holes pulsed.

  “Well?” Out of the corner of his eye he saw Agent Khepria step sideways, getting a better angle to fire on the Savorchans. He decided he would make a point to remember her loyalty.

  “They say they can be a friend to you, and will take your promise of friendship in return for passage,” Setha said.

  “Something’s up.”

  She nodded. “This is very strange.”

  He eyed them, wishing he could read Savorchan body language. “I’ll not be a friend to those who would demand I abandon my own. I will not negotiate for your life or your presence at my side.”

  She took a deep breath and translated. “They say I am non-negotiable.”

  “I say the same.” With that he turned on his heel and marched out with one hand on Hoshinagi. He was in the hall and halfway down the spiral before he slowed and looked behind him. Agent Khepria was two paces back. Behind her Tengu padded along on his large paws, and behind the cerberai his dejected beloved walked. The sight of he
r, almost dragging her Sarkh as she placed slow step in front of slow step, shot a needle through his heart. He stopped, waving Khepria and Tengu on past him to walk beside her.

  “I expected better,” she said.

  “I have heard better things of the Savorchan people. My father spoke highly of them.” He let his anger out through the soles of his feet. How dare they ask me to leave my Setha behind!

  “Your father dealt with my tribe. These are of a different group. They have a different perspective on the punishment and the prophecy.”

  “What prophecy?” he asked as they passed through the aperture back out. His jinzōbushi waited in two rows, standing like black statues beneath the shifting dome of jellied air.

  “The Savorchans believe that they are being punished for their crime against their gods. They believe the crime will last until a god returns to absolve them of their deed. Some view this punishment as eternal, since their crime was to—” she hesitated, “—kill their gods. There is a prophecy about one who is not of their kind that will bring about their absolution. My father cited it when he adopted me.”

  “He thinks you are this one?” Agent Khepria asked.

  “He won’t say, but I know he believes it. I wish he didn’t. It is too much to live up to, especially since I don’t know any Cephalon.”

  “The Cephalon are their gods?”

  “Yes,” Setha answered Agent Khepria.

  “And these Savorchans do not believe as your father does.” Agent Khepria nodded. “It is a shame that they allow that to cloud their sense of charity.”

  “Regardless of what they believe, these Savorchans are intolerably rude, and they’ll not have my friendship regardless of the reason. We will find another way.” He didn’t know how, but it seemed he had no choice now.

  Setha turned, tapping the structure behind them. The aperture flowed closed, leaving a blank, curved wall and no trace of its existence. “I am sorry to have wasted your time.”

  Time spent with you is never wasted, he thought. Aloud he said, “Let’s head back.”

  Chapter Six

  Sanakrat, Elmorus

  41:2:11 CST (J2400:3135)

  Pain flashed in Nero’s head like a strobe light. He thrust a hand over his eyes, his body throbbing in a deep soreness that left no question as to how badly he was beaten. Even the fibers in the soft roll of cloth beneath his head felt like a thousand tiny hooks digging their way into his skin.

  “He wakes,” a deep, croaking voice with a lisp rumbled in his ears.

  Squinting against the light, he made out bronze scales between the lapels of a black vest about a meter from him. A line of four green eyes scanned down his body. He didn’t need Prospero to identify his presumed host, the quills on the head and shoulders left no doubt that the being was a male Achinoi. The frill of skin was long, and covered the shoulders of his vest and draped half-way down his bulky, muscular chest. Black claws on the ends of his fingers and the long sickle-like spurs on his elbows might have given Nero some cause for alarm if he hadn’t been so tired and in so much pain. As it was, he wasn’t sure if he could care about the possibility of an eminent mauling.

  “Can you turn the light off, please?” He flopped back against something hard with a soft cover that could have been the floor for all he knew or cared.

  “It is on its dimmest setting,” the Achinoi said.

  “Off, please. Now.”

  The light dimmed, but was not extinguished.

  “I thought you said it was on its lowest setting.” He glanced at the source of pain, noting the Achinoi had thrown some kind of cloth over the glow-ball. “Never mind, thank you.”

  “I’ve never seen a Solan survive a beating like that before. You were crazy to fight the females of their species like that.”

  “Female what? Tanks? Never mind, it doesn’t matter.”

  “Female Brogh. In their species, it is the females that are bigger and tougher. This is not so with my own, or with yours, yes? Strange, no?” The Achinoi moved deeper into the room, out of his line of vision.

  “Where am I?” He shut his eyes.

  “My club, the back room.” The Achinoi’s voice seemed to come from far away.

  “Why?”

  “Why? Did you prefer to remain bleeding in the street for the Brogh to scrape up and throw in a prison cell? I managed to convince them to leave you here in exchange for free drinks for the month.”

  “I don’t mean to sound ungrateful. I am just wondering what your intentions are.”

  “My intentions? How strange you humans are.” The Achinoi rummaged around with something that generated a lot of noise Nero could feel in his teeth.

  “Everybody wants something no matter what species,” he said.

  “Do we?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I see you are a pessimist as well as a fool.” The Achinoi returned holding a large, metal rod about half the length of his forearm. A red cross on its surface identified it as a Solan Nanomed injector.

  “What’s that for?”

  “You. It would hardly do to inject myself with it. Judging by the amount of blood you coughed up in the road, I’d say you have organ damage.”

  “Is that your medical opinion?”

  “Yes? I am not a doctor, but I’ve known a few in my days and I’ve treated a lot of pulverized flesh before.”

  “What?”

  “You are a dense one.” The Achinoi knelt down beside him and jammed the end of the rod into his neck.

  It buzzed and stung, but moments after the ache in his body eased.

  “Do they have a name for you?”

  “Nero.”

  “Just Nero? Huh, I was given to thinking you Solans had longer names.”

  “We do. What’s yours?”

  “Garghth Kelrech, and I am the bouncer at this fine establishment I call the Wall. I also own it.”

  The Wall, so he hadn’t been taken far during his unconsciousness. “Do you typically let Broghites beat up your patrons?”

  “You were not yet my patron, and since the Brogh took over a few days ago, the answer is yes. It is an unfortunate reality that must be tolerated, I don’t personally enjoy the beatings like you seemed to do, and those with the guns make the rules.”

  “Sure.” He took a deep breath, noting that it didn’t hurt much, then opened his eyes. Thank the Will for nanomeds. He was in a cinder-block room, about five meters on a side, filled with boxes on shelves and crates stacked against the walls. The sour smell of old beer and musty dust was thick in the air. He didn’t recognize the script on them, but given where he was it was easy to guess what was in them.

  “You don’t agree?”

  “I don’t care. I’m only interested in getting off this planet.” He sat up, looking over himself as the bruises vanished. His clothing was roughed up, stained with blood, but otherwise intact.

  “Aren’t we all? You know the Broghites won’t let you.”

  “I won’t give them a choice.”

  “Aren’t you Mister Tough Guy?” Garghth waved his clawed hand through the air.

  “Apparently not.” He struggled up to his feet. “Thank you.”

  “You’re not from this world.”

  “No.”

  “I feel bad for you, Solan. You won’t be leaving this planet until the war is over. Maybe not even after that.” The Achinoi moved close again, dragging over a wood crate to sit on.

  Nero smiled. “I think you’re mistaken.”

  “And I think you’re delusional, but that’s neither here nor there.” The Achinoi waved his hand in the air again.

  “Well, thank you.” He looked around for a door.

  “Leaving already?”

  “Unless you can tell me where the Broghites stash their generators, yes.”

  “Generators? Why would you be interested in that?”

  He sighed. “Never mind, just tell me where the door is.”

  Garghth raked his chin-scales with his claws. “As far
as I know the Broghites are using the town’s power grid. The only place where I hear they have a big generator is the spaceport.” His green eyes widened. “You’re after the Abyssian ship!”

  “Door?” Nero cocked an eyebrow upward.

  “Which means either you’re the world’s stupidest opportunist, or—but your eyes aren’t right.”

  “Okay, I’ll find it myself.” Nero headed around the maze of shelves, scanning the wall for the exit. He found the narrow metal door a minute later and headed towards it. Garghth appeared from around a shelf and blocked his path.

  “I never thought an Abyssian would take a beating like you did, but it does explain your survival.” Garghth looked pensive.

  “Get out of the way. I have business to get done.” He frowned.

  “The generator is in the spaceport. I remember someone mentioning that. That’s worth something to you, right?” A head shorter than him, Garghth looked up clicking his claws together.

  “Maybe—no—yes, it is. Look, thank you for your help and the information. I’m sorry but I don’t know how much time I’ve lost, and I’m on a clock.” For all he knew it’d been a day, maybe several. Without access to Prospero’s atomic clock he had no idea what day or time it was.

  “You’ve been here a night and most of a day,” Garghth said.

  “Thank you.” Khepria would be worried by now. He fished in his pocket for the communicator and pulled it out. The chrome casing was smashed in, half-bent like an old playing card. “Dammit. You wouldn’t know where I can find a radio, would you?”

  “Yes but it wouldn’t do you much good. The Broghites seized the colony’s radio tower. They’re jamming all but their own signals from there. It’s powerful enough to reach out a thousand rik in every direction.”

  “I’m sorry, rik?”

  “Ah, something like your Solan kilometers I think. I don’t really know.”

  Nero frowned and nodded. “Okay. Fair enough. I’ll just have to head back then.”

  “During the day you won’t get far. The patrols will be everywhere.”

  He frowned. “Thank you, but I have to go.”

  “If you wait a moment, I promise I can help you. I can get you out of town.” Garghth waved his hands in the air.