Birthright: Book I of the Temujin Saga (16 page)

Robert grasped the arms of his chair to steady himself. “What the hell was that?”

Rene crawled back to his chair and winced as the gash in his forehead knitted closed, leaving a light scar. He rubbed the new skin with one hand and consulted his holo display with the other. He cursed.

“What is it?” said Cherry.

“We’re on the far side of Ceres,” said Rene. “The damn gate brought us out in the middle of the Asteroid Belt!”

Cherry’s eyes widened.
“What?”

“Damage report,” said Robert.

Cherry keyed up her holo-display and breathed a sigh of relief. “No hull breaches. Structural integrity is holding. Looks like the shields took the brunt of the hit. We’re safe…
for now.
What idiot places a jump gate in the middle of an asteroid field?”

“It was a one-in-a-million shot,” said Robert. “If you think about it, there’s no better place to hide a gate. Lots of flotsam floating around, but not so close together that it can’t be avoided. Just a case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

Rene sighed and rubbed his forehead. “Story of my life.”

Robert watched him. “You all right?”

“He’ll be fine,” said Cherry. “It was only his head. Not like he was using it or anything.”

Rene slammed his fist down on his armrest and let loose an incomprehensible string of Bayou French.

“Enough!” Robert grabbed Rene’s holo-display and swept it into his own, merging the interfaces and taking helm control away from the Cajun. “Rene, you go check the cargo bay and make sure the reserve fuel rods haven’t ruptured.”

“Why me?”

Robert tapped keys, laying in their new course. “Because if I leave the two of you alone, the ship might not be in one piece when I get back.”

Rene stood and cast a venomous glare at Cherry as he left the bridge. “Fine.”

*****

Rene descended the ladder to the ship’s sub level and — hunched to avoid banging his still-pounding head on the low ceiling — walked the short path to the cargo hold. He pounded the access panel with his fist and the door slid open to reveal the darkened hold.

“Lights,” he said.

The room was instantly illuminated and Rene cursed as one of the overturned supply canisters rolled past the open doorway. He touched a comm panel by the door and opened a channel to the bridge. “We’ve got loose cargo.”

Robert’s voice crackled over the channel,
“Salvage what you can, just in case. You never know what we might need down there.”

“Roger that.” Rene signed off.

He stepped inside to survey the damage and did a double take when his eyes fell on a pair of legs clad in standard-issue Hunters Union black sticking out from behind a fallen barrel. He ran to the canister and pulled it away. What he saw turned the air in his lungs to ice. There, on the floor, with his face covered in blood and his eyes closed, was—

“Quintin!” Rene shouted.

The boy’s eyes snapped open, and he sat up. He gasped, his lungs burning for that first breath of life.

Rene grabbed the boy’s shoulders. “Quintin! Are you all right?”

Quintin coughed and nodded, blinking away the tears welling in his eyes.

“Dying,” the boy gasped, “hurts.”

Despite his concern, Rene smirked. “
Now
you are a man.”

“I think I’d rather be a kid,” Quintin paused for breath and coughed again, “if this is what it takes to be a man.”

Rene helped the resurrected teen to his feet. “What in God’s name are you doing here? You should be halfway to Glynfyl by now.”

“I heard you and Jiri talking yesterday,” Quintin said, his breathing finally starting to level out.

Rene rolled his eyes.

“And I wanted to come to Earth. I want to meet my brother.”

“Merde!”
Rene stamped his foot. “This isn’t some pleasure trip, boy. This is a dangerous mission we’re on. And it’s
no
place for you.”

Rene turned his back and muttered in Bayou French.

“This is where I belong,” Quintin said.

“No!” Rene turned. “The
academy
is where you belong.”

At these words, Quintin began to cry. He tried wiping the tears away with his sleeve, but only succeeded in smearing the blood on his face. Rene sighed, and his shoulders slumped in defeat. He reached out to lay a comforting hand on the boy’s shoulder.

“Rene?”
Robert’s voice resonated from the wall comm.
“We’re coming up on Earth. You might want to get up here.”

Quintin looked up and choked back a sob. “Earth?”

“Come on, kid.” Rene grabbed Quintin by the arm and led him out into the corridor. “We’ll discuss this with the others.”

*****

“You’re a bit too hard on him, you know,” Robert said.

Cherry crossed her arms over her chest. “He’s an ass.”

Robert nodded. “Sometimes. But he cares.”

She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. “He has a funny way of showing it.”

Robert shrugged. “You’re not entirely blameless in that department, you know.”

She sighed. “I know. I just….”

“It’s not just Rene that’s bothering you, is it?”

Cherry sniffled, and a tear streamed down her nose. She shook her head, and the tear fell into her lap. She wiped her face with her sleeve.

“Quintin?”

She nodded.

Robert held out his hand over Rene’s empty chair. She took it, and their eyes met.

“Quintin’s safe,” he said. “A billion miles away from here.”

Cherry smiled mirthlessly. “And Alexander?”

Robert’s grasp on her hand tightened. “No harm will come to him. I
swear
it.”

“Robert, we should—”

The bridge door hissed open, and Cherry let go of Robert’s hand. He nodded. This discussion would have to wait.

Robert shifted his gaze to the front window, and the blue orb slowly filling it. “So how’s everything down in the hold?”

“Fine,” Rene replied. “Except for one tiny problem.”

“What?” asked Cherry. “Did you break the fuel rods?”

“No,” said Rene. “Look who I found
dead
in the cargo hold under a supply barrel.”

“Dead?”
said Cherry.

“Well, dead-ish.”

Robert and Cherry exchanged confused glances and turned in their seats. They expected to see the Cajun holding some flattened stowaway rodent the sanitation crawlers had missed, but instead—

“Quintin!” Cherry struggled to unbuckle her restraints.

But the boy wasn’t looking at her. His eyes were locked on the growing blue ball in front of the ship. White wisps of cloud floated across the planet’s atmosphere. He stepped toward the window. “You always told me that Earth was green.”

“Quintin!” Cherry shook him. “What are you
doing
here?”

The boy finally tore his eyes away from the beautiful planet and met Cherry’s worried gaze. “I wanted to come with you to meet my brother.”

“Your
brother
?”

“He overheard us talking to Jiri yesterday,” Rene said.

“Well that’s just
great
,” Cherry snarled. “Turn this ship around, Robert. We’re taking him back to Moebius.”

“What?” Quintin protested. “Robert, no!”

Suddenly the ship pitched, and a shrill alarm filled the cockpit.

“Too late,” said Robert. “We’ve entered the planet’s atmosphere. Everyone strap in!”

Cherry ushered Quintin to one of the empty chairs, and then both she and Rene strapped themselves in for the bumpy ride to come. Bright orange flames spread across the nose of the ship and obscured their view.

“TDC Command, this is the interceptor-class vessel
Saber
,” said Robert into the long-range communicator. “Do you read?”

Loud static filled the bridge.

“TDC Command, this is the interceptor-class vessel
Saber
,” Robert repeated more urgently. “Do you read? Respond, TDC.”

Again static filled their ears.

“It’s no good,” said Robert. “That collision must have knocked out the communications array.”

“Well now,” said Cherry. “Who do we have to thank for that?”

“Not now, woman!” Rene pointed a warning finger at her. “This is
not
the time!”

“Hang on tight.” Robert adjusted the heading. “This could get rough. They don’t know we’re coming.”

Chapter Seventeen

TDC Command

Bonaparte, Iowa

Moe stepped into the main chamber, drying his hair with a towel. Lamont was still at the console with the open file in his lap, his back to the open door. Moe peered over his brother’s shoulder as he examined a photograph of twelve humans, all dressed in Air Force uniforms.

“So,” he said, draping the damp towel over his shoulders. “Is it a good read?”

Without looking up, Lamont replied, “It’s incredible.”

“How so?”

“Sit down,” said Lamont gravely. “You’re not going to believe this.”

Moe sat, grabbed an open bag of Sterzing’s potato chips laying on the terminal, and put his feet up. “After all the work I went through to get that file, it better contain something more earth-shaking than a Seignso cookie recipe.”

“It does,” said Lamont. “After the crash at Roswell in 1947, the U.S. Air Force began attempts to reverse engineer alien technology recovered from the crash site. They were, for the most part, unsuccessful, but they were able to create a crude communications device capable of transmitting simple signals to planet Sorua. There were two survivors of the crash. One died on the operating table less than eight hours after extraction from Roswell, the other survived and accompanied twelve humans to Sorua in 1983 as part of an exchange program codenamed Operation Sleepover.

“The team consisted of ten men and two women, a combination of various military personnel, doctors, and scientists. One team member died of unknown causes during the voyage. The team lived on Sorua for nearly a year until something completely unexpected happened.”

“Oh yeah?” Moe popped a chip into his mouth. “What?”

“While on a research expedition, the Seignso hovercraft experienced a mechanical failure and crashed, injuring the humans aboard,” Lamont explained. “Three team members were killed, but during the cleanup after the accident one of the dead opened their eyes and sat up.”

Moe straightened in his chair, letting the chip bag fall to the floor.
“Sat up?”

“That’s what it says.” Lamont pointed to the file. “Apparently a Dr. Cheryl Sadler, one of the team’s medical personnel, just got up a few minutes later and seemed to be in perfectly good health. After this incident, the Seignso stopped being hospitable to the team and seized Dr. Sadler, subjecting her to numerous physical examinations against her will. When the team’s commanding officer attempted to put a stop to the examinations, he was placed under arrest. The team had brought a few weapons along on the mission — a couple of pistols and a rifle apiece, but the Seignso quickly quashed the rebellion and sent the humans back to Earth. Without Dr. Sadler.”

Moe snorted and retrieved his chips. “Typical Seignso crap.”

“That’s not all,” said Lamont. “Upon dropping off the team at your favorite Air Force base…” Moe smiled cynically. “…and describing Dr. Sadler’s unique ‘condition,’ they were then shown three human subjects the military had under observation. These three apparently exhibited the same traits as Dr. Sadler while serving in Vietnam. Private Remy Benoit, Sergeant Shawn Avery, and Lieutenant Jack Maddock were all taken into custody after either reviving or mysteriously healing from severe wounds in the field. They were being held at Area 51 for observation and study; scientists labeled them as
‘Homo immortalis,’
a new sub-species of human.”

“Bizarre,” Moe mumbled through a mouthful of potato chips.

“Shortly after,” Lamont continued, “the Seignso abducted these humans as ‘compensation’ for damages to their home planet during Operation Sleepover.”

“Damages?”

Lamont nodded. “Among the damages cited by the Seignso were the air car involved in the accident that ‘killed’ Dr. Sadler and the environmental damage caused by the building of a facility to dispose of the team’s excessive bodily wastes.”

“Wait, wait.” Moe waved a hand. “You’re telling me the Seignso held a grudge because humans
poop
too much?”

Lamont shook his head with a smile and pointed to the file again. “You can’t make this stuff up. It’s all right here in black and white.”

“Father,” said Moe. “You been listening to this?”

“I have,” said Father. “Some of this information I was already aware of, but this file presents new pieces to the puzzle. Apparently the Seignso had the same idea as I, but were thankfully too late to utilize the
Homo immortalis
genes in their plans for Temujin. However, if they were to continue experimenting on their reluctant specimens, they could create the perfect genetic soldiers for their war with the Federation, thus accelerating their plan.”

Moe held up his hand. “Wait, ‘same idea?’ Does that mean Alex—”

A piercing klaxon filled the chamber.

Moe covered his ears and groaned. “Oh, what
now
?”

“Father,” Lamont shouted over the noise, “are we under attack?”

“It is the early warning system,” said Father. “The orbital sensor drones have detected an alien vessel entering Earth’s atmosphere.”

“Hostile?” asked Moe.

“Uncertain,” said Father. “They are not responding to hails in any Federation language or frequency. However, I have plotted the vessel’s course.”

“And?” asked Lamont, even though he already knew the answer.

“The alien craft is on a direct course for TDC Command.”

*****

Alex felt his eyelids growing heavy and found it increasingly difficult to focus on his textbook as the gray-haired, bespectacled man at the front of the room droned on about the judicial branch of the United States government. The caffeine rush from the cappuccino had worn off an hour ago, not that it would have made any difference. Nothing could keep Alex awake during Mr. Butters’s fourth period government class. So he waited, his head nodding, for the lunch bell to ring so he could go eat with Crystal.