WOLF DAWN: Science Fiction Thriller/ Romance (Forsaken Worlds) (20 page)

Larren jumped to Omni with the exploding cruiser vivid in his mind. Malcolm Drake, the best friend a man could ever have,
gone.
His men tortured and murdered in front of him. His ship, everything
destroyed.
There was nothing left.

This terrible pain.
It was unproductive. Larren shut his eyes and put his hands on his head; he struggled for self control. He worried that he might actually go mad.

Think how lucky you are.

Yes. He was lucky. He was alive. Leave it to Drake to have thought of such a brilliant plan. Larren shook his head and silent tears rolled down his face. Knew what he was about, Drake did. Not one in a thousand would have found a way out of
Conqueror’s
clutches.

A heavy ache pressed against Larren’s chest, and he wiped his eyes.

Oh Goddess, the pain.

He had lost everything, everything. He couldn’t think any more. It was too much.

This must be shock.

Yes, that’s it. He was in shock. This, whatever this was, would wear off in time. He would just have to take it. Relax and take it. He would get through this. He got through the probe. He had wanted to die then. He didn’t think he could get through it, he would have done anything to stop it, but he had survived, hadn’t he? If he survived the probe, he could survive this.

I’m losing my mind.

No. No, you are not losing your mind. You just need to be still. Just be still and relax. Sleep. You need to sleep. You’re okay now. You’ll be okay.

Stone still, eyes blankly staring, Larren sat with his jaws and hands tightly clenched. Face set with firm resolve, he somehow controlled the deluge of grief and despair that threatened to overwhelm him.

Minutes passed as the small courier sped through Omni. Larren remained still, heart and body set in stone. He hardly breathed. There was one visible sign of life. Larren had a twitch in his cheek that jumped steadily with no volition of his own.

And sleep didn’t come.

A
board
Conqueror
, after interrogation of the technician, the Admiral once more had his temper under control. The technician had followed his instructions exactly, disabling all accessible ships on the flight deck.
Darla Wu
, the courier vessel, in fact any of the ships in docking could have been flown for a short time, but would have become dead in space within minutes. They would also have been unable to fire weapons. What Neopol hadn’t taken into account was the expertise of that pilot, Drake. Who would have thought the man would not only suspect such a subtle trap but would have the knowledge and ability to avoid it? He was only the pilot of a police cruiser. There was nothing special about him. How was Neopol to have predicted such intelligence and aptitude in a menial pilot?

Neopol hadn’t considered that Drake would have created the diversion, sacrificing himself, either. He assumed the men would both attempt an escape in one vessel. What was the man thinking? Why had he chosen to die for his Captain? Such loyalty. It was completely illogical. Drake had been a wildcard, he reassured himself. It wasn’t his fault. Neopol understood the human animal both inside and out, but no one could have predicted such an anomaly as Drake.

Neopol sighed with disappointment. A surprisingly capable man, the pilot of
Darla Wu.
It would have been a pleasure to interrogate him. Neopol had looked forward to the recapture of Forseth when his ship’s power suddenly cut off. Forseth would have gained a few minutes of freedom; golden moments where he would feel safe, would not fear pain or death. Recapture might well have created complete breakdown, causing total despair, perhaps even madness.

Never mind, he consoled himself. Forseth was only one man. The fool would be caught. He was undoubtedly on his way to Kalar in a futile attempt to warn the Queen of Delian and her son. They both had to die. Neopol smiled, recalling the intimate details he had discovered through mindtap. Touching, really, how the heroic Captain had formed such an attachment to the beautiful Lady Sartha. He had already planned to put their affair in a United Worlds media release, as a twisted motive for the destruction of the Delian people. But he had not known that Forseth was actually attached to the Delian Queen. Perfect. It seemed that life really does follow art, and vice versa.

Satisfied that everything would still work out Neopol sat down to compose a press release. Lord Andros would forgive his misadventures once the last Delians were dead and he recovered the Testimonials and the King’s Mirror. Andros needed him. Neopol smiled. And he would be rewarded with a long life.

Let’s see. How does this sound? “Freeworlds Policeman discovered to be working for years undercover for the Alliance. He and the Queen of Delian successfully murdered her spouse by annihilating an entire race. They also stole the Delian Testimonials of Truth and the King’s Mirror, both worth a fortune, in order to live together with the stolen credits of their vile crime.”

Neopol grinned. Not a bad basic outline. A bit excessive on her part, of course, but he would show that the woman was actually quite mad. With a bit of embellishment, it should be believable. He would send the media release via tubeport to every world. It would cost a fortune, but the UWG could afford it. Forseth had a head start on that shuttle.

He communicated fresh orders to Pagett via Icom. They had better make all haste to Kalar to apprehend the fugitives. When this media release got out, the good citizens of Kalar may well have Forseth and the Queen of Delian torn limb from limb. He didn’t want them dead. Not yet. He had a comprehensive set of experiments for them in mind.

Quite comprehensive.

People feel more comfortable and secure if they have a known enemy. Having a common foe unites families, countries, nations and worlds. I have provided “off-worlders” as natural enemies to every world. These are the scapegoats that I allow them to vilify, hate and destroy.

— High Command, private records, Lord John Andros

I
t was quiet in the wolves’ lair and Ash slept undisturbed.

Where am I?
Ash wondered. He was a child, a baby at his mother’s breast. Mother soothed him.

His vision shifted. Suddenly Ash was fully grown, a man with adult male needs — needs that were about to be met. He lurched at the thought, flushed and excited. There was a moment of confusion as Ash, with feverish haste, began to take off his police uniform.

His police uniform?
Even his sleeping self was well aware that he wasn’t a policeman and had never worn a police uniform. It didn’t matter. Aroused, he knew what he wanted: a woman as hot as he was. Burning. Fevered. Yes,
that
woman …

Ash’s mind was assailed by visions, his body with sensations. Skin to skin, soft and feminine, the woman smelled wonderful, thrilling and familiar. Ash caressed her, and suckled her breasts, making love. Everything was perfect, but then something terrible happened.

Pleasure turned to abhorrence.

An animal had her, sharp teeth drove into her neck. It was a wolf!

The woman he was making love to was his own Mother … and she was dead!

Ash jerked and woke up. He opened his eyes and recoiled with surprise. He was lying next to Seeta and he had been nursing, suckling the mother wolf’s teats, drinking her milk!

Ash almost threw up.

Seeta gazed anxiously at him as he reoriented himself to the present.

He moaned, putting his uninjured hand on his head. Looking around the den, he listened to the storm blowing forcefully outside. His arm ached, and his head felt like it would split. The dream of Forseth was disturbing, but the remembered loss of his mother produced a deeper pain. Ash shut his eyes, recalling the terrible fight they had had before she died.

How long had he journeyed through that snowstorm? It was a miracle he had survived. He tipped his head up, and said, “Thank you, Jana.”

Ash had been taught from an early age that he should always be grateful. His parents had impressed him with that, and consequently thankfulness had become a habit. He remembered his mother saying, “Offer thanks, my son, regularly and often. We are only truly alive in those moments when we are conscious of our riches.”

His eyes welled as he thought of his mother. He was grateful to have had her for as long as he had. Somehow being thankful made him more able to accept her death.

He took stock. He still had a temperature but it was well down from what it had been. Good. At least that terrible fever had broken. Ash, a veteran of serious illness, knew that although he felt weak and lightheaded, he was through the worst. His fingers searched his thigh for the King’s Mirror, the talisman of his world. Had he lost it on his journey to the den? No, it was there. It was safe.

“Nightmare or not,” he said out loud, “the real world is still pretty daunting. Except for you, Seeta. If it wasn’t for you I’d be dead.” He stroked her fur, noticing with relief that Long Fang was absent. The enormous male wolf scared him. Checking Icom he found he had been insensible for over thirty hours, not uncommon for him when he had a fever.

Seeta licked him with her raspy tongue. The bad weather had not yet blown itself out. It was the worst storm of the winter, with every wolf seeking the safety of its den. It was lucky they had had a good feed before it hit.

Ash untied his pack and took out a hypo. He and gave himself another generous amount of antibiotic, this time including pain relief. The web sling had remained in place, with his wrist above his heart, so he left it alone. His arm throbbed and it was swollen, but the tips of his fingers were pink and warm. Hopefully it would mend correctly. It sure hurt.

Seeta watched his activities with attentive interest, only once leaning over to lick him.

The painkiller gave immediate relief. Despite everything, Ash felt surprisingly well. He thought that with all that had happened to him the Dark Sankomin would be intruding. So strange. He looked down at Seeta’s thick red coat, her absorbing yellow eyes and felt a strange sensation. Warmth. Safety. A sense of rightness. It was like he had found something that had been missing.

Such an odd feeling,
like coming home.

He put a hand to his cheek, suddenly remembering where Mother Latnok had touched him with one gnarled knuckle. What had she said?
“Now, young wolf, remember who you are.”

This new thought stunned him. Was he somehow part wolf?

Again he felt something stir.

Trueborn! Inhuman!

Ash held still, not even breathing as he absorbed the import of the Seer’s words. The old woman had known this future. Couldn’t she have told him more? He shook his head. Mother Latnok’s gift was incomprehensible. She might have known but had been unable to alter a thing.

Ash relaxed in a languid sort of lassitude. He smiled. Pain killers. Wonderful. The mysterious questions caused by the Seer no longer seemed important. He found he wasn’t hungry but took a flask of water out of his pack and drank deeply.

“Well, girl?” he said to the wolf that lay before him.

Seeta looked at him, expectant.

He lay down beside her, his good arm across her back. Seeta’s soft, thick fur gave way to the weight of his arm. The position felt natural and sweetly familiar. He felt a little pang as he remembered his wolfhound, Tynan. Ash had spent many happy hours in just such a position, lying next to the soft warmth of his childhood friend. Breathing deeply he shut his eyes and relaxed. As easily as stepping through a door, he made contact.

“Hello, Seeta. We can talk to each other like this.”

She greeted him, radiating pleasure. Then:
“Sorry about the woman.”

Ash’s thoughts darkened.
“Thank you for saving her. I’m sorry about your cub.”

Seeta’s tail began to beat the dirt on the floor of the cave, thumping with pleasure. “
You are my cub. I will nurse you and you will grow safe and strong and well.”

“I don’t need to nurse,”
Ash thought, rejecting the idea.
“I have food and water.”

Seeta’s distress was obvious.
“The other cub did not nurse and died. You must nurse. You need me.”

Ash remained silent. He projected gentle, loving concepts, nothing specific; meanwhile he continued his touch deeper and deeper into Seeta’s mind. He was surprised by what he discovered: not really the facts of the discovery, because those he had guessed, but by the implications of what he found. Seeta was ill, suffering from the deep psychic distress of the Dark Sankomin. Using mind-touch, Ash tried to share her burden. He let her know that he understood her loss and despair, but somehow it wasn’t enough. For an animal, apparently, seeing
was
believing.
She needed him to nurse, and grow strong with the milk from her body.
To not nurse him would cause her psychic pain.

Ash sighed, resigned.

He could heal her. He was sure of it.

Seeta had saved his life. It occurred to him that as the Prince of Delian he had done many disagreeable things in his short existence and with much less of a good reason.

He thought, “
Yes, Seeta. Of course I need to nurse. I am a cub after all. Don’t worry. I’ll grow healthy and strong.”
To himself he decided that he would only need to nurse for two or three days, no more.

Ash opened his eyes and projected,
“Happy now?”

Seeta was unable to answer. Instead she put a paw on his leg. When his reverie was broken, he could still project, but she hadn’t yet learned how to reply. Never mind. He could tell by looking at her what her answer was.

She whined and nuzzled him, wanting him to lie down.

Ash swallowed, feeling queasy.
I can do this,
he assured himself. Hiding his disgust, he lay down beside Seeta to nurse, to let her help him, so that the loss from the death of her cub could be healed.

T
o Ash’s dismay, it was twelve weeks before Seeta allowed him to stop nursing. During that time the red winter sky gave way to the darker pine forest hues of spring, and then to the light greens of summer.

Ash lay in the dark of the cave, waiting for sleep to come. The soft sound of Seeta breathing was soothing as she lay next to him. He wasn’t close enough to touch her, but he could feel her warmth radiating in the dark. The heavy musk smell of the wolves had been disturbing at first, but he had learned to enjoy it. Even the biting, bitter scent of Long Fang’s urine, marking his territory, now only made Ash smile. All these things were associated with safety and Seeta. While he still felt uneasy and often uncomfortable around his adopted wolf father, he had no such reservations with his wolf mother. Seeta loved him.

Ash’s arm had healed miraculously. He was amazed by his swift recovery and his ongoing vitality. All that chill winter air and he hadn’t even gotten a cough. In the weeks he had been nursed by Seeta, he had grown over an inch and put on weight. For the first time in his life he didn’t feel ill or weak. He was stronger than ever before, his body an intense, burning flame, more like a bonfire than the flickering candle it had been previously. Was it because of the regenerative properties of wolf milk? Or due to some peculiar healing powers inherent in the atmosphere of Opan?

The planet of Opan had a strange twist to it. Ash felt it must be something to do with the sun’s rays, or how light was filtered. All the flora and fauna seemed to be an unusual color. For example, the twill bird was a vivid orange, and the wolves were bright red. Trees and plants, instead of green, were violet, purple or blue. Those colors just couldn’t be, Ash reasoned. He was sure that the plants survived through photosynthesis and chlorophyll.

Researching Icom he found why. In the atmosphere of Opan was a proliferation of a totally unique aerobic microorganism called hardicoribi. Harmless to plants and animals, its chemical properties had an unusual all-pervading effect. While the sun’s rays came from a normal yellow star, upon passing through hardicoribi each wavelength of light was diffused and altered. It was this that caused the unusual colors. Hardicoribi was inert during low temperatures, its inactive composition creating the red sky and red snow in the cold winter months. In warmer weather the sky became green, reflecting active chlorophyll, again unique to hardicoribi. The result was quite beautiful, but also disturbing. It would take some getting used to, he decided, observing the light green sky.

He was never bored, not with all the animals on Opan to mind-touch. Sometimes he’d spend the entire day in contact with one animal, living and learning everything about it.

There was the simple twill, the orange flightless bird, which had such a huge, ungainly shape. Male twills could weigh up to a hundred and fifty kilograms. The female could lay up to sixty eggs at a time. Ash licked his lips. Twill eggs. Yum. They were quite filling, with a high protein content and a sweet mustard flavor.

Like all birds, the twill had excellent vision. Icom informed him that the native twill had proportionally far more light receptors in the retina than mammals, and many more visual nerve connections. These birds had the ability to perceive beyond normal human range, and were able to detect both ultraviolet light and infrared. Ash found it quite disorienting initially to look through their eyes, to fully view such vibrant colors. Vision from within a twill covered a full spectrum, including the ability to perceive incremental changes of temperature. Heat, surprisingly showed as brilliant white, while colder temperatures registered in light grays, graduating darker and darker until the freezing cold of black .

Ash smiled, remembering. After overcoming the initial vision problems present when mind-touching a twill bird, he was eventually able to make sense of what he was seeing. The twill was always good for a giggle, with its odd body and its even more peculiar thoughts. Thinking for the twill was profoundly slow. Any thought it finally had was almost always based on an entirely incorrect assumption, and usually resulted in an equally ridiculous conclusion.

He had laughed on and off for days the time he had been in contact with a twill and it had come upon the red bush berries. Bush berries were good eating for all animals; even the wolves consumed them if they could find nothing else. The red berries not only tasted good, but they were nutritionally satisfying. This particular day the twill had found some berries that had been warmed by the sun. Usually they grew in the underside of the bush, but in this case some other animal had eaten the normal covering away.

Looking down through the twill bird’s eyes, Ash and the twill had both noticed the berries simultaneously. The bird thought with its unbearably slow mental processes, “Berries … berries are for eating.” It radiated pleasure. Ash felt the bird’s gullet move in anticipation. But then it became aware of the warmth in the berries; they radiated a grey-white heat. This was unexpected. Instinctively, the twill became alarmed by anything out of the ordinary.