Chapter 4 Blood and Fire

Guarding Bayron was infinite torture. Quant had to follow him everywhere, and he took for granted she would be there, three steps back and off to his right. Still, if she had seen a chance to escape, she would have taken it.

Unfortunately, Bayron correctly guessed she would not leave without Theelian and he had taken much oily pleasure in personally showing her the plain cell, two levels deeper, where Theelian lingered, heavily guarded by R-lys with orders to kill him if Quant attempted to free him.

At that exact moment, Quant had seriously considered gutting Bayron beyond any hope of repair; to rip out whatever organ pumped whatever he used for blood and jam it down his screaming throat, even if it meant her death—as it surely would have.

However, her restraint would have widened the eyes of her old academy instructors as she had only lowered her head and acquiesced.

E’gli and Theelian, she had thought as Bayron made her utter helplessness so maliciously apparent. E’gli had been a flagrant disregard of Elite code: no personal relationships, it made the assassin too vulnerable.

Space that! I’m not in the Elite now!  

She didn’t operate as an assassin on her home planet. All she did was live with E’gli and be loved. No one should to have been able to connect her to the Zy-Kaar Company or the Elite. Information about any Elite member, living or dead, was highly classified since employing assassins was strictly illegal under Consolidate laws.

I wonder if Salara knows Zy-Kaar Company has a traitor, a spy in their midst?

*                                    *                                 *                              *

The days dragged by.

She was enveloped by R-lys. She had to listen to their raspy chatter, watch them as they ate, the food rolling around in their open mouths. Their sour-milk smell clogged her nostrils and clung to her clothing. Her mind was a seethe of violence and her berserker-wrath squirmed inside her gut like a living thing.

She wanted, she needed to kill them all. Only the thought of E’gli’s safety stopped the carnage she dreamed about at night and fantasized about by day.

A brief freedom was hers when Bayron had his daily sex orgy and she was allowed to be on her own. When not visiting with Theelian, she would go to the observation tower and stare at the multicolored lights of Inid City aglow in the night. By day she’d watch the gray clouds roll from sea to land in an unbroken sheet of rippling movement.

Sometimes she’d execute her own torture and go to the entrance of the complex to watch the skyglydders come and go. Freedom was as sharp as the salty air and as far away as the gray-white mist that hovered over Inid City. Every day, her worry and fear became greater. Every day, she hated Bayron more.

In this manner, five stardays passed. Quant was spending the sixth day as she had the others. Watching. Waiting.

She was facing another tedious day in Bayron’s office when someone she knew entered.

Dywah! I didn’t think I’d ever see her again, Quant thought with a sudden surge of anger as she stared at the pale, golden-eyed, green-belly Isaarian who approached Bayron’s desk and bowed low.

Gone were the sparkling jewels and provocative garment. Today, she wore a simple carryvest of Isaarian-weave, rough green fabric that made her look more like a factory worker than an expensive prostitute.

“I greet you, Leader Bayron,” she said to the R-ly, who today was dressed in deep purple, his rotund body perched upon spindly legs, and sporting his yellow hairpiece.

“Your report?” he snapped with habitual irritation.

“No Grenians have arrived in Inid. No one has asked about the Theelian.”

Her news left Bayron thoughtful. He frowned. “I see. I must talk to Scunner before I give you new orders. MAUK-QUANT!”

Quant wondered why he had to scream; she was standing right behind him. She stepped in front of his desk as he had told her to do, but she refused to bow.

“Yes?” she answered, keeping her voice carefully neutral. She’d sooner suck vacuum before she called him ‘Leader Bayron’.

“Take Vell-Ahnya out and keep her occupied until I send for you,” he said, waving them away.

Without looking at the girl, Quant turned on her heel and marched out, not waiting to see if the younger Isaarian followed or not.

Meekly aware of the awkward situation, Vell-Ahnya followed Quant out of the room and down the hall.  Quant stopped abruptly and turned to glare at her.

“’Dywah’, huh? Drugged anyone lately?” she said, a growl shimmering through her words, her silver eyes dangerously narrowed. Ahnya looked away and didn’t answer. Quant conquered the urge to spit in her face, but allowed her tail to lash in short, twitching sweeps signifying her annoyance. “Follow me,” Quant finally said, and walked to the lift.

They rode the lift capsule up to the highest point on the island, 25 feet, to the observation tower, a bubble of light-sensitive glass walls and ceiling that provided a 360-degree view. Since it was nighttime, the glass walls were clear and the round room appeared to be float in the air, anchored only by the metal flooring.

In a nearby booth, two R-lys yawned though their watch shift.

Vell-Ahnya followed Quant to the furthest point of the diameter away from the guards. There, Quant stopped and was silent, staring off at the lights of Inid.

Ahnya wrapped her arms around herself in protection against Quant’s frostiness and stared at the assassin’s dark profile against a darker sky.

“You must hate me,” she said at last.

Quant’s thoughts of E’gli shattered. She gave Ahnya a cold stare. “Me? Hate you? Oh no, I love people who drug me and then haul me off so that I can be tortured with dehydration.” Her voice was as cold as the silver of her gaze.

Ahnya gasped, her eyes widening.

“Oh no! Did they—did they really do that to you?” she whispered.

Quant’s head tilted to one side.

“Perhaps you’ve noticed the color discrepancy of my skin—the mixture of brown and tan? I was one starweek in regen, healing up after being more dead than alive and I can’t thank you enough for the experience. I only hope you find out what if feels like.”

Ahnya shivered.

“Bayron said you weren’t going to be hurt! He said you wanted to join him! I didn’t know you were going to be hurt! I SWEAR!” she cried out, her pale golden eyes dilating to colored rims, the black spots along her jawbone and throat even more stark against the increased paleness of her skin.

Glancing over the smaller Isaarian’s head, Quant saw the chatting R-lys stop, their heads turning to look in their direction. She stepped close to Ahnya and caught her wrist in a harsh grip.

“Keep your voice down!” she hissed. “They watch me every kronon.” From the inner corners of her pale gold eyes, Ahnya’s third eyelid slid halfway up, making her look ill and old; a sign of distress or pain.

“Great. Nice act.” Quant said, nodding to Ahnya. “Am I supposed to feel sorry for you or what?”

She threw Ahnya’s hand back at her and crossed her arms over her chest as she stepped away from her again.

“I’m not acting!” Ahnya said, her voice a quiet hiss of vehemence. “I SWEAR I didn’t know he was going to hurt you!”

“Oh? Does he always hire his new people with a cheap little pleasure-unit and a drugged bottle of wine?” Quant said, her low voice heavy with sarcasm. “One of us can’t be stupid enough to believe that.”

“But-but I tell you, I-I didn’t know! Won’t you please believe me?” the girl said, and her eyes narrowed. “I hate this place!”

“Yeah? Why come here? Why stay? Who cares?” Quant said listlessly, her gaze already drifting back to the city skyline.

“It’s not what you think! I hate Bayron!”

The venom in Ahnya’s answering whisper drew Quant’s attention back to her.

“Really? Do you spy for credits or do you just love the smell of the little crad-turds?” she asked, truly curious.

“Neither! I do it because I have to!” Ahnya snapped, her eyes flashing and a glimpse of bared teeth.

Quant bared her own teeth, her anger suddenly aroused. “If you think I’m going to believe anything you say–! Tell Bayron I’m not quite that stupid!”

Instead of backing away in terror as Quant expected, Ahnya came closer, within two feet of her and tilted her muzzle up, exposing her pale green throat.

“You have every right to kill me. Do it, if you want, but please believe me! I am a spy for Bayron only because I am forced to be,” she said quietly and closed her eyes, her body rigid with expectation of the killing bite.

Quant looked at the pale-green underside of Ahnya’s neck, her large, life-vein throbbing under the thinness of the skin, the pulse hammering rapidly with the girl’s fear. No Isaarian did such a suicidal act without very good reason. Quant thought of E’gli and unbent a little.

“Is he holding someone close to you?” she asked, her voice devoid of anger, quieter now, almost gentle.

Ahnya opened her eyes, blinking back the nictitating eyelids as though still surprised to be alive, her pale gold gaze holding Quant’s silver stare and lowered her muzzle down a little.

“Yes…in a way, it’s my brother, Vell-Raah. Bayron recruited him in Inid. Our parents are dead and I had to work in the factories. We barely had enough to live on. The R-lys offered Raah hundreds of credits to work for them and he did. He likes it!” Her voice choked with humiliation and incredulity. “I’m so ashamed, but I can’t talk any sense into him or make him see what he’s doing is wrong!” She threw up her hands in defeated recounting of her tale. “He’s too young to remember the Interstellar War. He thinks this is all some kind of Tri-Dem® fantasy play! When Bayron found out Raah had a sister, me, he said I was a security risk. He told me I had to join them or be killed.”

“A great bunch, these R-lys,” Quant muttered, cutting her gaze off to the side, feeling stupid and humiliated for her anger towards Ahnya. Her folded arms dropped to her sides. Ahnya went on.

“I thought joining them would be the best way to keep track of Raah and I like living as much as the next Isaarian, so I did it.” The pale gold eyes looked at Quant beseechingly, the third, inner eyelids quivering at their corners. “But I never wanted to see you hurt, Quant! You were so kind and loving to me that night. It’s my fault you’re here—take your revenge!” Ahnya said, closing her eyes as she tilted her head back again for Quant’s bite.

Quant leaned back against the cool glass and looked at her; Ahnya was trembling so hard she was almost vibrating. She was scared to death.

“Calm down. I’m not going to kill you. You’re not the one I want,” Quant said, her voice languid and quiet. “You’ve been watching too many fantasy Tri-Dems® yourself, cousin. Straighten up and stop shivering.” She grabbed the girl by the shoulders and gave her a gentle shake. “You make me feel like some vooking schoolyard bully!” She let her hands drop away and took a step back from her. “How in the world did you become a pleasure-unit of all things?”

Ahnya lowered her chin, stood up straight and hugged herself, swallowing a few times before she spoke.

“They—they made me become a unit and put me in the Travel & Transport House so I could make contacts and spy on any off-worlders without being noticed. The night we met in the I-Club and you asked if I hated R-lys, I spoke the truth!” she hissed, her eyes flashing with hatred. Quant patted her shoulder with a gentle hand.

“Your brother, huh? That’s too bad,” she said, hoping Raah wasn’t one of the Isaarians she’d killed a starmonth ago.

“You met Raah. He was there the night you were attacked by those Isaarians in the alley.”

Quant sighed heavily with remembrance.

“Seems like it happened a million staryears ago—wait a kronon! Was your brother the little crad-bait who walked me into that back-alley ambush?” Quant asked, suddenly seeing the family resemblance. Ahnya’s pale eyes went sad; she nodded slowly.

“Raah told me how well you fought. He said you fought so well against such odds, he couldn’t kill you. He stunned you out so that he could escape. He was afraid you would have killed him, too.”

Quant bared her teeth in memory. “Yeah, I’ve met your brother. Did he also tell you he killed a helpless Isaarian, one of his own buddies?”

Ahnya looked away from Quant’s intense gaze and hung her head, her shoulders bowed with some invisible weight. Quant couldn’t stop her shudder of disgust, voiced with her body and her words.

“He did tell you and you didn’t care! How can you be a part of this?”

“He is my brother!”

“He is joyfully helping the R-lys kill his own kind!”

“He’s all the family I have left in the world! I tried talking to him but he simply won’t listen! I can’t desert him!” Ahnya clutched at Quant’s hand, agony in her eyes. “I’m so afraid and I’ve been so alone! Can’t you please understand? Haven’t you ever been all alone?”

Twenty staryears of loneliness washed over Quant. Memories of a harsh life among strangers on a planet she could never call home. She shook it off.

“Vell-Raah is a traitorous little monster and I owe him,” she said her voice one growl. Ahnya looked up at her with terrified eyes.

“Quant, NO! Promise me you won’t hurt him!”

“No vooking way,” Quant said, turning her back on Ahnya to look out at the sea, black movement in the distance.

The girl surprised her by dropping to her knees and pressing her forehead against Quant’s toes.

“Please, Quant, don’t hurt him! Don’t hurt Raah!” she cried out, her frightened voice very loud in the stillness of the tower.

“Get up! The R-lys are staring,” Quant hissed as she bent down and pulled Ahnya to her feet. “All right! I won’t kill your brother even though he deserves it! Now be quiet!”

Ahnya threw her arms around Quant’s neck and pressed her body against hers in a hug of relief.

“Thank you, Mauk-Quant. Thank you so much!” she said quietly into Quant’s carryvest.

“I suppose I ought to be thankful I fought well enough to please his aesthetic tastes! If I hadn’t, I wouldn’t be here today. I guess I owe him that much,” Quant muttered half aloud, half to herself.

She looked down at Ahnya as the smaller Isaarian trembled against her chest. It made her think of E’gli, of all things. What other Isaarian—who knew she was an assassin—ever hugged her this way?

Poor thing—we’re both in the same fix. Bayron, Bayron! I’ll chew off your head and spit out the bones,” Quant thought.

She put her arms around Ahnya and hugged her, looking out over the multicolored lights of Inid, rippling reflections in the black waters of the bay.

 E’gli, my own E’gli! Why didn’t I come to you my first day here? We argued so hard and parted with such unkind words! I didn’t mean any of it, E’gli. You are my life! My water! You can’t be hurt! I won’t allow it!

A streak of brightness caught her eye. Far away, she saw a silver light pierce the clouds and fall into the dark ocean. A bad omen. It was as though the ancient Isaarian gods had answered her. Her own bright star of luck had fallen from grace to lie beneath the murky waters.

“You Isaarians! Leader Bayron wants you,” an R-ly called from the watch booth.

Quant and Ahnya broke apart. Quant felt as though she were in a strange dream, a nightmare existence. Ahnya looked up at her and her eyes were deep with emotion.

“Quant, ever since I met you, I’ve thought about you. You didn’t treat me like a pleasure-unit; you treated me like a lover. When I saw you today, I was so happy–! And so afraid you’d hate me for what I did to you and I didn’t want you to hate me. I—I…”

Ahnya’s word faded off, but Quant saw what was in her eyes; that same deep, loving look E’gli gave her. The dream-like haze encircled her closer. Was she going crazy from the strain, the worry? All she could feel was hate for Bayron and pain for E’gli. What could she say to this child who looked at her with such love?

“We’d better get back,” Quant said, her voice as stiff as her movements as she disentangled herself from Ahnya’s emotions. She saw the glow fade from Ahnya’s eyes before she nodded and turned to walk toward the lift capsule.

Before Quant left, she took one more look at the lights of Inid, her hand against the clear glass as though she could touch it.

                           *                                 *                                    *                   *

Quant’s falling star was now deep below the ocean’s surface. Yellow light beams pierced the murky water. It was a space vessel. On the side of its silver hull, written in Interstell and Grenian were the words, STARWIND ZK-2.

Inside the control room was dimness, lit by many multi-colored lights on panels and walls and at the center, two figures were seated in side-by-side chairs, spotlighted in a small pool of blue-tinted light.

The mood of the two was subdued and excited. The subdued was Salara Ni’bal, dressed in a black cat suit with no identifying insignia. The excitement belonged to Commander Aura Zy-Kaar.

 Salara looked up from her skanner to her companion in the next seat.

“Planet entry is completed, Commander. I am almost sure we were moving too fast for detection,” Salara said in her usual, measured tones.

 Zy-Kaar gave her brilliant smile.

“I’m sure we weren’t detected, but it doesn’t matter. We’ll be off this swamp-ball of a planet within the starhour.”

Zy-Kaar spoke with confidence, her emerald green eyes glittery with excitement as she bumped her shoulder companionably against Salara’s stiffly held shoulder.

The assassin’s slender black eyebrows drew down and together, but when she spoke, no emotion touched her words.

“Commander, I know this is your first off-planet trip in starmonths and I understand how much you’ve missed space travel, but there could be lives at stake here—particularly yours and mine. Are you taking this seriously enough? What we are about to attempt is very dangerous.”

Zy-Kaar’s hand closed over Salara’s fist as it sat bunched tight on the controlpanel. Below the black bangs covering her forehead, Salara’s pale-yellow eyes deepened to gold as the assassin relaxed her hand, opening her fist to welcome the warm, slim fingers.

Zy-Kaar squeezed the lax hand in her own and when she spoke, her voice was soft.

“Stop worrying, Salara. With you and me on the job failure is impossible,” she said, smiling at the face inches from hers.

Zy-Kaar’s oval face was flushed copper at her cheeks, accentuating the golden color of her skin. Her long, curly black hair poured over the shoulders of her similar black cat suit, and her big, golden wings were a perfect background to highlight an exotic young beauty of 17 staryears.

“And we’ll be home for the baby’s next feeding time in this,” she continued, her free hand patting the metal control panel of her prototype spaceglydder.

Salara’s eyebrows eased up and back and the faintest smile curved her mouth. Her fingers squeezed gently on Zy-Kaar’s and when she spoke, her voice was gentle.

“Yes, Commander, but may I suggest we not be overly confident?”

“Salara, you know how important Theelian is to me. None of my plans can move forward if we lose them. They are so important I come here myself to do this. I am not over-confident. I am as prepared and skilled as you are. You know that,” Zy-Kaar said, smiling, her head slightly tilted to one side as she looked at the one to whom she’d entrusted her life with no qualms.

Salara nodded her agreement with some reluctance. 

“But the Company has lost one spaceglydder and a crew of fifteen to the R-lys and it has been some time since you faced combat conditions; you gave birth only a starmonth ago…”

“I’ve been pregnant, not paralyzed,” Zy-Kaar snapped in interruption, her coddling tone gone as she snatched her hand from Salara’s grasp and crossed both arms under her full bosom, now using her close proximity to intimidate.

“I can handle this job easily. It’s about time I had some real action and excitement! For the past few starweeks, my biggest thrill has been waiting for the baby to wake up and eat. I’m more than ready for this but if you’re so worried you can stay on the Starwind; I’ll go alone,” she intoned imperiously, like a true Grenian BloodNoble.

Sudden color flushed the assassin’s lean, pale cheeks but she retreated not and when she spoke, her voice was low and not in the tones one might expect from a subordinate.

“You realize I cannot let you do that. It’s bad enough Toak doesn’t know you’re here. You know she won’t like this. I ought to have come here alone.”

“You are going to follow my orders, not Toak’s and unless it is absolutely necessary, she will never know of this. You will not tell her. Ever.” The green gaze pinned itself to Salara’s until the assassin gave the expected answer.

“Yes, Commander,” she said in a flat monotone, her lips pressed into a thin line.

“Good. I’m here and I’m going to do this. No more discussion about you going without me. You’re good, but you’re going to need someone watching your back,” Zy-Kaar said. “Get me a directional check on that signal.”

Color and emotion drained from Salara’s face and her narrow eyes cooled to their usual cat-yellow. She bent towards her instrument panel, returning to her tightly-wound state.

“Coordinates are now L-44, K-11. Thirty landlengths ahead, Commander. The tracking signal is increasing in strength.”

“Good! I want to come right up and knock on Bayron’s door.”

“The signal is coming from a small island in the bay at Inid City,” Salara reported. “Crad Island. Twenty-five staryears ago, it was a research facility, abandoned now for 20 staryears, re-built and contracted out to an R-ly and Bian consortium. Building plans show four levels. Three underground. The only entrance is on the ocean-facing side of the bay where there is no beach, only rocks. No one knows what goes on there and the Isaarian government doesn’t care as long as they get a free, updated facility when the contract ends.” She looked at Zy-Kaar. “Do you think they are still alive?”

Zy-Kaar’s black, winged eyebrows drew together in a fierce scowl.

“Space his pleasure-unit mother; I don’t know!” she cursed. “Bayron takes a strange enjoyment out of killing my people and about your agent—I couldn’t say. However, I don’t think even Bayron is crazed enough to kill a Theelian; that’s a death sentence on any Consolidate planet. At least, I hope he hasn’t!”

Salara did not reply. She looked down at her monitors.

“Your plan seems to be working. You were correct when you guessed we wouldn’t be detected in an underwater approach. I’m not picking up any undersea skanning, but there are hundreds of sea creatures clustered in the area.”

Zy-Kaar snorted in disgust.

“Stupid R-lys! Dangerous, but stupid! They never anticipated an underwater approach? How can anyone be so careless?” She pulled her hair back from her face and shoulders to plait it into as single, long braid in preparation for battle.

“It’s lucky for us that they were,” Salara murmured.

“Oh, please! It makes it too easy.” Zy-Kaar said, finishing the braid and tossing it behind her back. “Seven Vooking Moons, the waters so muddy! I’m switching to computer navigation—there’s the island!” A thrill of excitement echoed in her words. “I’ll hit them low first,” Zy-Kaar muttered to herself in savage glee and prepped her particle bombs. “Hello, Bayron,” she said aloud and launched her first attack wave.

******************************************************************

Back with Bayron in his command center, Quant had spent the better part of an hour thinking about Ahnya’s predicament and discreetly eyeing the largest vein in Bayron’s throat.

Suddenly, the floor shivered under her feet as a muffled, explosive sound wave vibrated in her ears. A quick hand to the wall steadied her and her tail swung left in counter balance. Her other hand pulled out her weapon as an alarm started to shriek and joining it were the screams of the R-lys as they erupted into a hysterical milling mob that immediately began to stampede for the exits.

Her own inner alarm thrilled through her as she saw Bayron stand up on his chair and yell out commands in R-ly to the uncaring, un-hearing crowd.

“What’s happening?” she yelled out to Bayron loud enough to be heard over the uproar. He turned his enraged glare upon her.

“Idiot! What do you think? We’re being attacked! Put that weapon away and stay close to me! Remember Vo-E’gli!” he snarled as he climbed down from the chair. He wore all red today.

 A blood red, Quant thought.

* *****************************************************************

“Direct hit, Commander,” Salara said. “Computer scan reports the superstructure is still stable. Two more attacks would collapse and flood the inner complex, but battlerayers might be required.” 

Zy-Kaar shook her head in dismissal.

“The battlerayers are too much. If Theelian is inside, I want them alive and in one piece.” She bent her head over the control panel and tapped quickly on the glassy surface as she re-programmed the computer, her finger composing her battle commands. “The particle bombs will be a distraction so we can get inside with less resistance. You know the plan?” Zy-Kaar asked, knowing full well her highly trained bodyguard did. She realized it betrayed her nervousness and she wished the words back.

“Yes,” Salara said, her voice calm and even, not revealing any possible irritation at such a question as she repeated her superior’s battle plan.

 She de-activated her seatbelt and stood up as she did so.

“We follow the signal to the security double and hopefully Theelian and the others are in the same place. If so, I activate the explosive inside the double,” she said and left the room, the single door opening onto the bright light of the ship’s corridor.

If they aren’t with the double, it will be a bit more difficult, Zy-Kaar thought as she rose from her chair, knowing Salara was also fully aware of that possibility.

She looked down at the control panel for a last check. The Starwind was on computer control now. It would surface long enough to put them on land, then submerge and keep bombing the base of the island. All was in order. She left to join Salara at the air lock.

Crad Island was far away from the lights of the city and the night was moonless, so the Starwind, running dark with no lights, was unseen as it partially surfaced, brown water streaming off the matte metal. The outer airlock doors opened and an extensible metal tube snaked over to the rocks, Zy-Kaar and Salara exiting from the dilating opening at its end. The tube retracted into the Starwind and it sank under the black water.

The two wore communication pieces in their ears and carried heavy-duty, rifle-like rayers as well as a fully-stocked weapons belt, Salara’s snug around her waist. Zy-Kaar’s belt sat on her hips like a cowboy gunslinger, her startlingly large golden wings held tight and flat against her back. It was a cool night and the sea was calm.

 “Let’s hurry and get to that entrance,” Zy-Kaar said.

 For some long minutes, they carefully climbed over wet, sharp rocks to the seaward side of the island. Turning a corner, they saw the complex entrance, bright lights pouring out and illuminating the darkness.  The entrance was also swarming with R-lys fighting their way to lines of skyglydders parked off both sides of the entrance.

“I wonder what’s the hurry?” Zy-Kaar said with a delighted aside to Salara as they hid in the deep shadow just off the entrance’s side. “R-lys are such predictable cowards,” Zy-Kaar muttered in distaste. She looked at Salara, crouched beside her as they hid behind a large rock. “We may as well walk in,” she said to her. Salara stood up and shrugged in acknowledgement. They climbed over the lip of the glydder deck and walked in.

For some time, they went unnoticed in the chaos until an armed R-ly guard turned, saw them, and decided he felt both brave and lucky.

Salara spotted him as he turned, the R-ly raising his weapon up at them. Her hand, steady on the slide bar of her humming rayer, was already pulling back and the slender, black barrel of her weapon spewed forth neon-purple rays that washed over the alien and left blowing red dust where he had stood.                  

“Good work! I think the R-lys should stay here with us, don’t you?” Zy-Kaar said to Salara, and the assassin saw the delighted gleam in the green eyes.

Zy-Kaar spun around 180 degrees and the white beam of her burnrayer swept in a wide arc over the lines of skyglydders and, incidentally, the R-lys packed around them.

Bodies ignited into flames. Screams of the dying competed with the klaxon shrieks of the alarm. Red comets of flaming R-lys began diving off the lip of the deck, some smashing onto the rocks and some hitting the water below only to find that they were not the only life forms in the water, and these others had teeth.

In the landing bay, the skyglydders glowed red, melting in streams of molten fingers. The smell of hot metal and burning flesh followed the Grenians as they ran on quickly into the open mouth of the complex. Behind them, the heat-sensitive engines of the skyglydders exploded one by one, in a chain reaction of fire and flying shrapnel, the walls splattered with R-ly blood and various body parts.

 Inside the complex, the alarm continued to screech and the R-lys scurried, some wild-eyed and screaming, some silent and frowning, all clutching travelsaks.

“You find the signal’s source. I’m going for Bayron,” Zy-Kaar said, her voice going directly into Salara’s ear.

Salara stopped and caught Zy-Kaar’s wrist, pulling her to a halt in middle of the hallway. “We shouldn’t split up. Bayron may not even be here,” she said, her voice intense for all its calm.

A white beam sliced between them and hit a running R-ly who burst into flames. Salara spun away and dropped to one knee, firing her weapon as Zy-Kaar leapt backwards, turning her upper body sideways and firing her weapon in one smooth, quick motion.

Purple and white light flashed a zigzag pattern of death over five R-lys as they burst into flames or disintegrated into powder, losing heads, arms and torsos to the double onslaught. The burnt-rubber smell of the rayer’s fumes and the stink of charred flesh hung in the air along with the moans of the dying as the screaming R-lys fled into the crowds to drop and burn.

Back-to-back, Zy-Kaar and Salara retreated quickly to a T-section of the corridor, grabbing cover on opposite sides of the hallway.

“I guess they’re not as disorganized as I thought,” Zy-Kaar said, grinning at Salara. “Those guards seemed to have been looking for us.”

The assassin raised one eyebrow.

“It’s lucky they were too nervous to shoot straight,” was all she said, her voice calm.

“Go find that double!” Zy-Kaar ordered as she checked behind her for enemies.

“Commander, we should stay together,” Salara repeated in earnest tones as she looked across the corridor at Zy-Kaar flattened against the wall. Even from across the space separating them, she saw the green eyes flare with anger.

“Don’t argue with me; I’m giving you a direct order! Do I have to do everything myself? The Starwind is going to keep bombing this place every few kronons. We don’t have time to debate this! DO AS I SAY!” Zy-Kaar snarled at her companion, and turned to run down her corridor.

With her burnrayer, Zy-Kaar cleared a path through the few R-lys guards that tried to stop her as she worked her way deeper inside the complex. One time, she felt the floor shake and the lights flickered as the second round of bombs rocked the island, the ensuing explosions bringing down pieces of the ceiling. She took shelter in a recessed doorway and watched the walls collapse on hapless R-lys, trapping the less nimble.

“COMMANDER!” Salara’s sudden voice was loud in her earpiece.

“Take it easy! I can hear you fine,” Zy-Kaar hissed as she touched the receiver behind her ear.

“That was quite a bombing. I’ve got some structural collapse down here. Are you all right?” Salara’s voice sounder calmer, but oddly breathy, Zy-Kaar imagined.

“Yes! Stop worrying about me and do your job!”

“Yes, Commander. I’m approaching the signal source. I’m four levels down from the glydder deck. There is some sea water coming in— “

From her doorway, Zy-Kaar kept watch for armed guards among the running R-lys. The continuous buzz of the alarm was like a dagger in her brain; she wished it would stop and waited anxiously for Salara’s next words, her breath coming in short burst of anticipation.

“I’ve located the source—the medical section—” There was a pause. “No one else is here. The double’s head has been rayed off.” Zy-Kaar’s disappointment lurched her heart and made her grit her teeth together for a brief instant.

“Of all the bad luck–! All right, set the explosive. Give us 10 kronons on the timer. I’m going to keep looking for Bayron.”

“Aura, wait for me!” The assassin’s voice sounded panicked. Zy-Kaar shook off her surprise and replaced it with a finely-tuned focus of revenge.

“There’s no time to wait! I’ll meet you on the glydderdeck in 5 kronons no matter what! You’ll find the glydders on the far left side of the deck undamaged. You’d better get up there and get us one before the R-lys take them all!” She broke off as she saw an R-ly run past. He struck her as someone in a position of authority.

Anyway, he’s the first R-ly I’ve seen that’s calm and not looking to burn my head off, she thought.

Running after him, she caught him by the back of his high-collared garment, spun him around and shoved him against the wall. His surprise was complete when she stuck the barrel of her burnrayer between his black and red eyes.

“Lead me to Bayron or die.”

     *              *                 *               *                                   *                         *

Dutifully, Quant followed Bayron through corridors of scurrying R-lys, their bleats of panic barely heard over the continuous clamor of the buzzing alarms. The smell of soured milk spiked even higher as the pheromones of fear joined it, making Quant wish for the milder, bearable smells of yesterday. She was amazed at how completely the R-ly forces had fallen apart; all they thought of was escape, not defense.

At Bayron’s personal quarters, they entered. The compartment door closed and the cacophony dimmed to a muted roar. She moved away from the entrance, her back to the wall and close to the doorway of her connecting room.

Who could they fear so much? she wondered, watching Bayron pull open a large cabinet and begin throwing things inside a travelsak.

“You’re leaving?” she asked him.

“We are leaving, yes,” he corrected in tense, bitten off words.

“But what about Vo-E’gli?”

“Who? Oh. What about him?”

“Is he here? Shouldn’t we go get him?” Quant said, her heart suddenly pounding at the thought of E’gli in such danger.

Bayron stopped packing, turned around and smiled at her, a too-wide, oily smile that showed every one of his yellowed, interlocking teeth.

“No, he’s not here. He’s where we are going.”

Her visible relief was like an ice bath after a sauna. Observing that, Bayron’s smile grew impossibly wider and the black and red eyes twinkled.

“But—what about Theelian?” Quant said, suddenly remembering him.

Bayron’s smile vanished and his look to her, before he returned to his packing, was one of annoyance.

“What about it?” he said like one on the very brink of impatience.

“Aren’t we going to take Theelian with us?”

“No. There’s little enough room in the glydder as it is.”

Quant’s heart began to pound again.

“I can’t just leave him!”

“There’s no need for concern. Its rescuers are undoubtedly here,” he said, carelessly, never ceasing his packing.

Quant’s head drew back in puzzlement. “Rescuers’?”

Bayron turned to glare at her, hands on hips, indignant and scornful, his wide, froggy mouth down turned in a sneer.

“I didn’t know you were so thick-headed! Who do you think is attacking me? It’s Aura Zy-Kaar or her agents! She’s the only one who would dare,” he spat out. He wagged a stubby, chiding finger at her. “No more talk! If you need anything you had best take it with you. I’ll allow you one small sak. Get going and leave the connecting door open!’

The name of Aura Zy-Kaar threw Quant into a state of confusion, relief, and dread. She assumed that Salara and a force of Elite commandos were there to rescue her and Theelian, but the game had changed so much! Should she stick with Bayron and rescue E’gli, or wait and join Salara’s attack squad?

“HURRY!” Bayron screamed at her, breaking her brief reverie and deciding her course. Until she saw E’gli with her own eyes, Bayron was going nowhere without her.

Quant turned to the adjoining door behind her. Before she opened it, the signal for Bayron’s door chirped. She stopped.

Quickly, Bayron went to his bedside table and touched the intercom switch.

“Who’s there?” he called, looking at the door.

“It’s Scunner, Leader Bayron.” The second-in-command’s voice was admirably calm against the din of noise that accompanied his words.

“Are you alone? Did you bring what I asked?” Bayron demanded, tersely.

“Yes! Please! Let me in!” the voice said impatiently.

Bayron’s stubby forefinger stabbed the lock sequence and opened the door, the din of the alarms and panicked voices filling the room.

Scunner stumbled in.  “LOOK OUT! IT’S–!”

His words ended in a shriek as a white beam poured over him, melting the upper half of his body, his bottom half flopping on the floor, the thin legs still churning. The sudden smell of burning flesh clogged Quant’s nostrils, her utter surprise freezing her in place.

She gasped as Aura Zy-Kaar leapt through the doors, a big rayer aimed at Bayron’s fat belly, the door closing and locking behind her, cutting off the outside tumult.

Zy-Kaar stepped around Scunner’s now stilled, smoking remains, her gaze never leaving the R-ly, who was also frozen into motionlessness. Quant, still as a statue, went unnoticed as she watched.

“Hello, you disgusting, gutless little leshworm,” Zy-Kaar said in a voice friendly for the insult of her words.

“You like this?” She tilted her head toward the big weapon she held in her arms. “It’s a burnrayer. I got it just for you.” Her voice lost its cheer and lowered to what Quant thought to be a passable growl. “I know how fond you R-lys are of using this out-lawed weapon on helpless prisoners. I wanted you to personally know how that feels. HOW IT FELT WHEN YOU DID IT TO MY LYSEN!”

Quant studied Zy-Kaar’s face and its odd mixture of hate and amusement, how the green eyes glittered with a desire Quant knew well.

So that’s Aura Zy-Kaar!  She saved me the trouble of having to kill Scunner, Quant thought in awe and gratitude.

With a burst of sudden motion, Zy-Kaar pulled back the slide bar of her rayer. It flooded the room with a white glare as a crackling heat beam rushed toward Bayron.

“MAUK-QUANT!” he screamed. 

Zy-Kaar’s unexpected offensive maneuver left no time for Quant to respond as she only just closed her eyes in time against the too-bright light, her inner eyelids protecting her vision faster than she could think it and she heard the beam strike its target with a hiss and everything died within her.

She heard Zy-Kaar laugh and blinked her eyes open. The beam had hit Bayron’s bed, leaving a smoldering hole less than an arms-length from the cowering R-ly. A thin haze of smoke hovered near the ceiling.

He’s alive! Quant thought, her relief making her almost stagger as she pulled the handrayer from her carryvest pocket.

Zy-Kaar saw the motion from the corner of her eye. She whirled around, firing at the same time.

Quant saw Zy-Kaar begin her turn. White light pulsed in her direction. Automatically, her assassin training snapped in, she collapsing to the floor as the short, expertly aimed burst of intense heat passed over where she had been standing.

She guessed that Zy-Kaar would aim high—as everyone did–and as it had many times before the maneuver saved her life, she rolling sideways and coming up on one knee, her rayer aimed at Zy-Kaar’s head.

“STOP!” she said, her voice loud, her hand rock-steady, her gaze instinctively on the place in Zy-Kaar’s forehead where her shot would land.

“Mauk-Quant? Salara’s agent?” Zy-Kaar snapped out, her hand on the slide bar again.

“Yes! YES!” Quant shouted quickly.

Zy-Kaar raised one ebony eyebrow.

“Hah! We thought you were dead.” She nodded once, her rayer and eyes swinging back to cover Bayron. “It’s a good thing you’re so quick; you nearly lost your head sneaking up on me like that.”

She spoke to Bayron in harder tones.

“I’d love to make you suffer, but I just don’t have the time!”

Her rayer dangling at her side, Quant got up from the floor, unable to keep from admiring the tall Grenian.

Zy-Kaar looked magnificent, a black-clad savior with a burnrayer, the big weapon a matte, silver-gray in her arms.

 Now Quant had this R-ly helpless and he’d tell her anything and everything about E’gli if she had to strip every piece of skin from his torso. The very thought of getting her hands on the fat alien made her teeth clamp together as her jaws locked.

Oh yes, please let him resist me, she thought.

“Mauk-Quant, protect me!” Bayron said, his voice pitched high and squeaky, his red and black eyeballs shifting back and forth from her to Zy-Kaar.

“You must be joking! She’s one of my people,” Zy-Kaar said, a sneer of disgust and savage glee on her face.

“Mauk-Quant, remember Vo-E’gli! If I die, he dies!” Bayron screeched at her.

“Quiet you,” Zy-Kaar ordered him, her eyes suddenly narrowing as she glanced at Quant. “Quick, what’s he talking about?”

“I need him alive! He has my mate! You can’t kill him yet!”

“He’s lying! Don’t believe him!”

“He’ll die! He’ll die,” Bayron screamed again, his voice squeaking even higher, his severe trembling making him look as though he were dancing.

The smell of burnt flesh clogging her nostrils and leaving her scent-blind somehow added to the furor she felt inside and out, freezing her mind. She saw Zy-Kaar’s eyes change; they became the eyes of a killer. Not assassin-cold and unemotional, but blazing hot with a recognizable blood lust determined to be sated.

“Goodbye you sad excuse for an intelligent life-form,” Quant heard Zy-Kaar whisper, her hand changing the beam’s spread pattern from ‘single beam’ to ‘wide-cone’, the R-ly in her sights.

“WAIT!” Quant called out.

Zy-Kaar shifted an eyeball and saw Quant’s rayer aimed at her.

“You-you can’t kill him,” Quant said, shaking her head from side to side very slowly, hating every word she said. “Not yet.”

Zy-Kaar kept her attention on Bayron, her burnrayer pointed at his head.

“Mauk-Quant, listen to me! Bayron is a liar! He’s never told the truth or kept a promise in his life! Whatever he told you was a trick,” she said in a tight, terse voice.

Quant shook her head again. “No one hates him more than I do, but I can’t risk E’gli’s life! We can just take him now.”

“I came here to kill him because he has killed my emissary, my lover, Lysen when he didn’t have to! But that wasn’t enough for him! He tortured Lysen with a burnrayer before killing him! I’ve spent two staryears and billons in credits to find him. What if he gets away again? How many more of my people will he kill in the meantime? My father? My child? Me?’ NO! To stop me, you’re going to have to kill me,” Zy-Kaar said through gritted teeth.

“Remember Vo-E’gli!” Bayron yelped again, edging nearer his bed as though he hoped to hide.

Quant lowered her weapon and put it into her vest pocket, standing still with her gaze briefly downcast, her arms hanging limp at her sides. Zy-Kaar glanced at her.

“Good,” she commented approvingly and flicked her gaze to the R-ly. She tilted her head slightly and smiled at him, somehow making her grin as foreboding and ferocious as any Isaarian street-thug. The rayer started to hum louder as she flicked the power levels to full strength. The hole of the barrel glowed like a miniature supernova.

“NO! NO!” Bayron cried, throwing up his arms to shield his face. “NOOO!” he screamed, his wide-open mouth showing yellow, interlocking teeth and a pointed, green tongue.

NOW!

Quant’s powerful legs catapults her forward onto her hands, aiming carefully as she cartwheels past the Grenian, her tip of her tail whacking the rayer out of Zy-Kaar’s arms.

It sails up to the ceiling, bounces off and thumps to the floor, out of reach as Quant flips back onto her feet standing between an open-mouthed Zy-Kaar and Bayron.

It had taken two seconds, the sudden surge of adrenaline-like molecules in her brain putting her into overdrive mode and making her chest heave, her heart thumping hard in her chest.

“I’m sorry but I can’t let you kill that piece of crad-turd if there’s any chance of E’gli being alive,” Quant said to the still-speechless Zy-Kaar, her tones both apologetic and firm.

Zy-Kaar, stood gawking with astonishment, her eyes as wide with amazement as Bayron’s had been huge with fear.

“Yes! That’s it! Protect me! Protect me!” Bayron cried, his voice gargling. He sounded half-hysterical, half-mad. Quant ignored him.

Zy-Kaar found her voice.

“You fool! Get out of my way!” she yelled, her golden face gone livid with fury.

“No, I can’t! I’m sorry,” Quant said, pulling her rayer out of her pocket and setting it on stun mode.

“I’ll stun you out if I must, to protect Egli,” she warned the BloodNoble.

“HE IS DEAD! YOUR E’GLI IS DEAD IF BAYRON HAD HIM AND YOU ARE GOING TO RISK LETTING THE ONE WHO KILLED HIM ESCAPE!” Zy-Kaar raged at her.

Doubt and pain flowed from Quant like deathbites to the throat. This was the right thing to do. Wasn’t it?

“I–we can’t know that for sure,” she said, her voice low. No one heard.

“Kill her! Kill her! KILL HER!” Bayron shrieked, his voice wet and raw. Quant didn’t have to look at him to know spittle flew from his mouth as he shouted his inane orders at her.

“NO! I don’t have to kill her! I’m protecting you!” Quant called over her shoulder as she kept her eyes on Zy-Kaar.

She didn’t see him pull a handrayer from under his burnt pillow and very quickly clamber over the bed towards the connecting door of her room, but Zy-Kaar did.

She saw Bayron pause at the door and level the rayer in her direction.

The back of her neck rippled in a familiar warning as Quant’s eyes followed Zy-Kaar’s intense gaze, her head turning 180 degrees to see Bayron and the weapon he pointed, aimed dead center at Zy-Kaar’s mid-section. Panic screamed inside Quant’s head and exited though her mouth.

“NO!” she roared, turning toward him, knowing she’d never reach him in time.

Her cry startled him enough to make him hesitate a split second before he fired, then Quant pitched herself sideways, diving for cover behind a chair, her head turning towards Zy-Kaar, praying the Grenian knew what to do with the life-saving chance Quant provided. 

Even as she dove down and out of the path of the rayer’s beam, her eyes were on the Grenian.

Zy-Kaar exploded off the floor in a high, split-leg leap, her huge wings deploying with a snap, a blur of motion and blasts of wind as the purple beam passed harmlessly between her legs.

Quant had barely hit the floor with a bone-shaking impact she only half felt, when the door to Bayron’s room disintegrated in a splash of purple light and the din of the alarms flooded in like an aural hurricane.

No! Not reinforcements for Bayron! Her brain screamed, her gaze nailed to the door, her peripheral vision noting Zy-Kaar landing with a thump and disappearing from view.

 Salara came into the room low, sliding on her knees and lying down a meticulous, if hurried, pattern of purple rayer fire aimed in Bayron’s direction.

He screamed in shocked surprise as the short blasts peppered the wall and door around his head, one so close, its passing carved thin, bloodless line across his wide cheek.

Quicker than Quant thought he could ever move, Bayron turned, slapped at the door control and squeezed through the partial opening with a gelatinous ripple, gone before the door finished closing again.

“Commander!” Salara called as she got to her feet and hurried to where Zy-Kaar was laying on the floor to escape Salara’s friendly fire. Zy-Kaar shook off Salara’s helping hand and stood up, her face a thundercloud of rage.

Staring at the door through which Bayron escaped, Quant stood up slowly, slackly as it hits her. Bayron was gone. Gone. 

“E’gli–?” she whispered.

From the hall, Vell-Ahnya’s head peeked through the blasted door. The crazed cries and calls of the remaining R-lys could still be heard as they echoed down the halls with the alarm’s buzzing klaxons.

“Commander, we have six kronons to get off this island,” Salara said.

With a stiff arm and trembling finger, Zy-Kaar pointed to the door through which the R-ly had fled.

“That was Bayron!” The words, spat out, the green eyes wild with rage.

“I’m sorry I missed him. He may be caught here when it blows,” Salara said, her voice calm as ever.

Zy-Kaar turned and walked over to where Quant stood gazing at the door in slack-jawed puzzlement and blocked the Isaarian’s view, making their gazes meet.

“You really think you saved your precious whoever? You stupid, incompetent fool! I could kill you,” Zy-Kaar hissed, her green eyes slits of fury, her mouth twisted in a snarl as she balled up her aristocratic hand into a decent-sized fist.

Quant did not anticipate the action.

She saw a blur of black and gold and felt a hard punch to the side of her face that snapped her head sideways on her neck, the pain registering dimly along her jaw.

Her vision doubled, she briefly closed her eyes, then blinking rapidly, the figure before her merged back into one and Quant stared blankly at Zy-Kaar’s furious face, her own mind caught in a nightmare, unable to think, speak or even move.

It’s a dream—it has to be a dream. I’ll wake up now and E’gli will be here. I’ll tell him about the dream and we’ll laugh, we’ll laugh! she thought as she slowly touched the suddenly throbbing spot on her jawbone.

“Seven Moons of Grenya, what’s the matter with her?” Zy-Kaar snapped, so startled by the Isaarian’s vacant gaze, it broke through her rage. “I think she’s gone crazy! Maybe she’s drugged?”

She stepped back from the taller alien as she threw a look at Salara for explanations.

Salara came over to stand before Quant and caught her nubbly wrist in a harsh grip, pulling the taller alien closer to her level so they were eye to eye.

“QUANT! Mauk-Quant, listen to me. I don’t know what’s been going on and we don’t have the time to find out. You’re an assassin. You’ve got a job to do. Lives are depending on you. SNAP OUT OF IT!” Salara said in Quant’s face.

Zy-Kaar retrieved her burnrayer from the floor.

“I think you’re wasting your time. She’s let Bayron get away and now she’s gone into a trance! Stupid phibby!  I can see why she couldn’t make it in the Elite.” she said, petulant as she checked her weapon for damage.

“Quant, listen. Is Theelian still alive?” Salara asked, her voice only a bit less intense, her yellow gaze examining Quant’s face intently.

“Theelian–? Yes….” Quant said, the sound of her voice surprising herself.

Surely, it has to be as Zy-Kaar said? Bayron was lying about E’gli all this time?

“What? Where?” Zy-Kaar asked, coming closer, suddenly interested.

“Lower levels…”

Yes, he was lying…he had to be lying…please, I know he had…to be lying!

Salara let go of Quant and turned to Zy-Kaar. “I just came from there. The calculations were off; the lower levels are flooding with sea water.”

Another distant boom sounded and the floor rattled, tilted under their feet at an 8-degree angle and stayed there. The lights flickered, went out, sparked on again but only half as bright as before.

“The last attack wave and my calculations did everything I wanted. I was not going to leave this place standing,” Zy-Kaar declared. “The Starwind has gone. We either get off this island now, or go down with it.”

Zy-Kaar’s sharply spoken words sank to Quant’s consciousness slowly, like mud into a sponge. She struggled to snap herself out of her own funk. With an effort, she forced her mind away from E’gli and her training took over, compartmentalizing E’gli away for the moment.

“I know where Theelian is,” she said in a firm, clear voice.

The Grenians looked at her.

“Don’t just stand there! Go get them!” Zy-Kaar cried. “We’ve got less than five kronons to get off this island before it explodes!”

A panicked Vell-Ahnya rushed into the room. “No! You can’t,” she cried, her eyes wild and her mouth wide.

“Who’s this?” Zy-Kaar asked, jerking her thumb at Ahnya and giving her assassin an annoyed look.

“Commander, this is Vell-Ahnya,” Salara said, lifting an arm towards the smaller Isaarian who hopped from foot to foot in obvious anxiety. “I found her wandering the halls. She led me here.”

“My brother is here! I was looking for him! We have to find him!” Ahnya cried out, her eyes wide orbs of frenzy.

“Not another crazy phibby,” Zy-Kaar spat out in disgust, her gaze rolling towards the ceiling and down again.

“We’ll look for your brother on our way out. Unless you want to be blown apart, you’d better come with us,” Salara told her, pitching her voice loud to be heard over the corridor noise.

“No! We have to find him!  I won’t leave without him!” Ahnya said and bared her teeth at them.

Zy-Kaar swung her weapon towards Ahnya with a muttered growl that showed side-teeth. She looked ready to burn Ahnya down where she stood.

“AHNYA!” Quant shouted and spoke in Isaarian as she stepped between the distraught Isaarian and the nozzle of Zy-Kaar’s weapon.

She took both of Ahnya’s hands in hers. “I’ll look for Raah! Go with them!” Ahnya’s face flooded with hope.

“Oh, Quant! You promised you wouldn’t hurt him,” Ahnya reminded, her eyes frightened almost to the edge of blind panic and Quant felt the smaller female’s hands trembling in hers.

“I remember. Go with them, all right? You trust me, don’t you?”

Ahnya nodded with a desperate, almost childish faith in Quant’s infallibility. Quant gave her hands one more squeeze and let her go.

“Quant, you’ll meet us on the glydderdeck in four kronons. We’ll wait,” Salara said.

Quant nodded and hurried past them, her toe claws scratching for a grip on the tilted floor.

“Mauk-Quant!” Zy-Kaar called.

Quant stopped in the doorway and turned.

“You may need this.”

She tossed Quant the burnrayer. Quant caught it. Their gazes met and held for the space of a heartbeat. Quant nodded at Zy-Kaar, then disappeared through the doorway, gone.

Zy-Kaar pulled her handrayer off her belt as she paced quickly to the door.

“This party is over! It’s time to leave, crew!” she said with a brilliant smile and exited through the gaping hole in the door.

Salara graciously waved Ahnya ahead of her and brought up the rear.

To be continued…