BOOK 0: FIELDS OF FIRE Chapter xvii

Sandan Medina was disappointed he was not chosen to go on the mission. Like any other Air Command warrior, he was eager to explore new worlds. Sandan knew Carrol’s ability to heal through Arda liquid was far superior to ordinary medical aid and sending her on the mission was the sensible thing to do. But who would have thought that a Naradi Famede would be sent on a scouting mission? Then again, with both princes and the princess on assignment a capable Naradi Famede like Glendon Garin was the appropriate choice to accompany them. Still… eh! Sandan was proud to be an Air Command warrior, not a royal guard. There would be plenty of time and opportunity for adventure in the future.

He helped Carrol put together a comprehensive medical package possible that would fit in her ship and still leave room for personal items. The ships were long-range fighter ships and not built to carry much more than extra water and weaponry. Every weapon but the front guns in her ship were removed in favor of supplies.

Carrol and Oriel decided the Phillipi family should dine before the scouts departed. Carrol stopped by the main hanger to see what Gareth’s plans were and found him literally knee-deep in an engine compartment. He smiled when he saw her, and the odd line of grease across the bridge of his nose made her laugh. She wiped it off with a cloth from the workstation. “The Phillipi family is having a meal together later today,” she told him. “I wonder if you would like to join us.”

“Of course, I would like to, but I do not think it would be for the best,” he told her. “I need to heighten the ultra-light drive on this spare fighter for myself so I can keep up with the rest of you, and it is taking some time. At any rate, I am afraid your father would consider me brash for sticking myself into a family-only situation. If I am not allowed to dance with you, I am uncertain that walking in unannounced to dine with the Royal Family will be smiled upon, either. But thank you for thinking of me, Your Nibs.”

“It was not hard,” she told him, and stepped over to one side as another mechanic brought over a set of relays for the work. Gareth was right; Father might not appreciate her idea, especially for a family gathering. She wanted to do something with Gareth before they set out on this mission, but uncertain what would be appropriate for both parties.

“However, I would not mind bending an elbow with you and your brothers at the Standard,” he spontaneously suggested. She readily agreed.

Carrol decided halfway through dinner that it was just as well that Gareth did not accept the invitation. The air was stiff with tension thanks to her eldest brother and his wife. The cooks on duty lovingly laid out the royal family’s small dining area with the soon-to-be-departing family members’ favorite dishes served. Darien dove into the candied friaks and Carrol enjoyed the spice-and-noodles. Erich and Oriel tried to keep a light banter going, but to no avail.

Stuart and Aura barely spoke to each other and when they did, it was with clipped speech and cold glances. Lycasis ventured a try at thawing the chill. “Have you seen the trophy I was recently awarded?” He indicated a small lump affixed to a decorative plaque on a display stand atop the sideboard.

“What is it for, who gave it to you?” Darien asked.

“One of Hartin Medina’s Kellis team players found this stone embedded on his ship’s nose,” Lycasis told them. “They decided that even if my team did not do well in the standings, I should be honored for at least taking my lumps. Ha!” Lycasis let out a roaring laugh, and the others joined him. “Next year, I shall have Erich on my team. That should be fair enough: experience and youth, versus the muscles of the Medinas.”

Erich liked the idea of playing the game alongside his grandfather even more than his intense dislike for Kellis.

Oriel said, “How pleasant it would be if you all were on the same team, some time!”

“The Pathetic Phillipis, yes; I can just see it now,” Darien hooted. “Mother, Kellis on a ship’s hanger deck causes damage I cannot begin to describe.”

“Well, we know they probably will not be here, anyway,” Aura said unhappily as she stabbed at her food with a utensil. “They will be off happily exploring anywhere but here.”

“Perhaps you have a better suggestion for contacting an unknown planet?” Stuart asked.

“I did not realize I had a say in the matter.”

“You always have your say, whether it is for you to speak or not.”

Oh, not again, Oriel thought in dismay.

“Why should I, you never seem to want to hear me,” Aura said, and Stuart abruptly rose from his chair and threw his dinner napkin on the table.

“Not if all you are going to do is order me out of my own bedroom and destroy my wardrobe,” he said. He stalked away from the table without excuse or explanation to the stunned family. When the door slammed shut behind him, Aura jumped slightly. For a long moment, no one spoke. Lycasis drummed his fingers on the tabletop.

“Just what has brought you to this juncture this time?” he asked Aura.

“I would rather not talk about it,” Aura replied.

“I am going to hear about it, whether you would rather or not,” Lycasis told her sternly. “My children are flying away in two days and I am not going to let any of them leave with unpleasant, unfinished business in the air.” He said it with finality, and she twisted her napkin in her lap uncomfortably.

“Well, this has been a very pleasant evening, Mother,” Darien observed, dabbing his mouth with deliberately excessive fussiness with his dinner napkin. “We should do this again, very soon.”

“Oh, be hushed!” Aura snapped at him. “You overbearing rogue!”

“You have had him shackled since the day you married him. You know full well Stuart has responsibilities,” Darien came back. “Maybe if you spent more time making your son mind you, instead of your husband— “

“Who are you, giving me advice!” Aura exclaimed. “You cannot rule me as if I was your wife.”

“Not if she would be anything like you, Chilly,” Darien said, and Lycasis clapped his hands together for silence.

“That is enough! Darien, stay out of this! Aura, Stuart is my emissary on behalf of the crown and the Thuringi people. This mission must be accomplished for the sake of us all. I cannot send just anyone on this vital mission, and I will not have my daughter-in-law join the ranks of the king’s council in telling me how to rule! What, do you believe that I should go in Stuart’s stead?” Aura quickly shook her head and the rest of the family responded with vigorous no’s of their own. “Then why are you so angry with Stuart? I made the decision,” Lycasis demanded.

“I am not angry with Stuart, Your Majesty; I know what his responsibilities are, and I accept them. But he has been sent off on missions since we have been married and I worry because I never know if he will return or not,” Aura cried out. She caught herself with a miserable gasp as she realized Erich was still present, as was the widowed Carrol.

“Then suppose you go find him and send him off with kinder sentiment than what he has been offered,” Lycasis suggested. Aura paused and then quietly rose and went out the door to look for Stuart.

After a moment of thought, Erich turned to his uncle. “Uncle Darien, is that why you have not married, because women are odd?”

“Odd? Boy, women are just out and out strange,” Darien instructed his nephew, and nodded toward his mother Oriel. “When you can find a woman as kind and beautiful as your grandmother, and strong and sassy like your Aunt Carrol, then you can safely consider her in the same breath as marriage. Until then? Pfft!”

“Spoken like a true gentleman,” Lycasis said with dry irony, and the remaining members of the royal family quietly ate for a time. Finally, Oriel spoke.

“You know, Major Duncan has no family left to him now. Perhaps we should have invited him to dinner. But then it was just as well, considering this unpleasantness.”

“I asked him to come, but he was concerned Father would not appreciate him just dropping in. He did not want to insinuate himself into a family gathering,” Carrol explained.

“He has all the instincts of a born gentleman,” Oriel told Carrol. “If I had thought of this earlier, I would have been glad to officially invite him. I like your Major Duncan, Carrol.”

“So do I,” Carrol agreed. “He did invite me and Darien and Stuart to have drinks with him at the Standard before we leave. I would hazard to say it is an open invitation to everyone,” she said with a glance at her father.

Lycasis smiled as he considered the matter.

Stuart heard the door to the bedroom open and knew who it was by the scent of the perfume. He continued the careful packing of his wearable clothes, determined to get the job done before they began their inevitable row. She said nothing; she simply eyed him from the doorway

“Well, say it then,” he finally told her angrily. “Tell me what you came to say and be done with it. Tell me I am wrong as usual. Tell me there is no need to secure a safe haven for you and our son and our people. Tell me I should defy the wishes of the king.” She remained where she was, so he looked at her to see why she was silent.

Her golden hair was coiffed into a spiraling pile of curls and rolls, decorated with bright jewels that caught the light. She wore the deep blue eveningwear from dinner, the dress he always admired on her. She looked like a beautiful painting, so lovely to the eye and so impossible to correctly interpret.

“I suppose you are going to tell me next that I am deserting you and Erich,” he ventured, unable to tear his gaze away from her beauty. She lifted her chin regally. “Just what are your orders now, Princess Aura Phillipi de Ardenne?” he demanded harshly. He fought the urge to fall on his knees and ask her to forgive him for whatever mysterious wrong he committed.

“My order?” she asked, a small smile creeping along her lips. “Take me in your arms and give me all the yjass you have.”

His mouth dropped open in disbelief. “I thought you were mad at me.”

“I cannot fight with you over this, Stuart. You are going by order of your father, no matter what spoiled little me wants. I will miss you, darling. I want you to remember that, instead of my always fussing at you.”

He dropped the boot in his hand and snatched her up in his arms. She could not repress a giggle; Stuart was great fun when he was playful. He carried her to the bed and threw her on it, then jumped in after her with a scandalous grin. She laughed and held out her arms at this unexpected but delightful response from him. “I wanted our last few days together to be more than a memory of argument.”

“You want memories?” Stuart asked. “We could try to make a permanent memory, one that will become reality in a few months.”

“I would call him Sweet, from this time we have,” she whispered into Stuart’s ear as he hastily relieved them of their garments. Stuart paused long enough to smile wickedly at her.

“You might want to call him Yjass,” he suggested, so unusually naughty she gasped.

“Stuart, we cannot name a child that! It is so crude!”

“It is accurate,” Stuart laughed. “Will it not make you remember this more vividly?”

“It does not mean we should name a child after an action,” she protested, albeit with eager anticipation of the activity.

“Well, if we did that, then his name would be some form of wegodgoe,” he suggested.

“A form of yjass, it is,” she amended quickly.

“Wegodgoe is a form of yjass,” he teased, nipping at her bare waist with his lips.

“Oh, just hush up, and do,” she moaned. He was so much like Darien this way; she hoped she would not get too carried away.

The evening before they set out, Gareth secured a booth and table for them in the Standard. Darien slid into the booth seat across from Gareth. “It is my understanding that Stuart will join us this evening after all,” Darien told him. “His and Aura’s monumental fury evolved into a course of action that is much more agreeable, and he is cheerful again.”

“I can tell by the look on your face, that means they had a fight and made up in the traditional way,” Gareth observed. “Good for them but frankly, I do not care to hear the details.”

“I suppose not. Not if you must keep on your best behavior on this mission and not let your mind wander to thoughts of my dear sister.”

“Ssh,” Gareth hissed at him. “Name of All, Darien, is nothing confidential with you?”

Darien just chuckled. “We took the liberty of inviting certain higher-ranking nibs than mere princes and princess! Is that agreeable with you?”

“Certainly! It would be a treat to see the Highest Ranking Nib toss back a glass of brew at the Standard.”

As the others trickled in, Carrol, Janis and Glendon sat on Gareth’s side, and Lycasis sat with his son. A large bottle of Thelan wine awaited them on the table.

“Our good Major Duncan is hosting us, as he has accumulated so many hours,” Darien announced as he poured glasses of the legendarily smooth drink. A square table was placed alongside the booth table, extending the flat space outward and made it possible for all to sit together comfortably.

“No, no,” Lycasis protested. “You are going out on a most important royal mission. I will assume the hours,” he insisted.

Gareth responded with a grateful smile. After a time, Stuart, Brent and Isador joined them. Stuart sat alongside his father, and Brent assumed Darien’s backwards-facing chair seat at the end of the booth. Isador sat close to him.

“All hail the outgoing flyers!” Brent whooped. “I am ready to see what this mystery world is like.” They all raised their glasses in a toast.

“To the king, in whose name we journey,” Glendon offered.

“To a successful mission,” Darien intoned.

“And to our happy return,” Stuart added.

“To drink this wine before it evaporates from want of use,” Gareth suggested. They laughed and downed their drinks. As the evening progressed, people came by the Standard to wish them well. Lycasis rarely came to a cantina but when he did, he got a better feeling for the mood of the people than any other place in the Armada.

To his surprise and delight, his queen joined them, accompanied by her ever-present Naradi Thurman Garin, and Erich. The patrons rose to their feet as a happy buzz sounded around the room. Queen Oriel visiting the Standard was out of the ordinary, like a little Festival. She sat beside Lycasis and Erich occupied a chair next to his uncle Brent. Thurman stood to one side.

“I have not seen such a happy cantina in a long time,” Oriel mused as the bartenders fell over themselves in an attempt to bring her a glass of wine. “Thank you, my dears.” They beamed at her as they bowed and retreated. She lifted her glass. “I simply do not know what I shall do without my darling children and their worthy companions. Perhaps, ah – perhaps I will challenge young Sandan Medina in the air filter toss next Festival!” The entire crowd in the cantina roared with laughter and approval at her spirited banter, and Sandan whistled in amusement.

“It would give you something to do,” Lycasis chuckled.

“Or, I could work on my Kellis technique,” Oriel added. She held her small fist in the air in the classic pose of an intimidating warrior. Two members of the Wild Factor clapped their hands in approval, and Thurman beamed with delight.

Darien ducked his head and tried to clear the sudden lump in his throat. If only there was someone with similar charm and grace as his mother, for him.

“I came by to wish you all good journey and success,” Tomas Hellick told them, as other officers did. He strained to put forth an air of respect and affection for the royals and their comrades, and it was successful. No one suspected the jealous resentment of the royal family that seethed in him beneath the polite veneer.

“Thank you, Colonel Hellick,” Stuart replied. “We appreciate your kind regards.” Gareth nudged Carrol’s knee with his, under the table. Tomas bowed briefly and went to the door to leave.

“You will want to watch that one, Father,” Darien confided to Lycasis as he watched the colonel in retreat. “He is sour to the crown.”

“Hellick? Are you certain? I thought him to be a good man,” Lycasis replied quietly. “What makes you say such a thing?” Darien sighed and did not reply.

At the door, Tomas bumped into the entering Hartin Medina. As if by a long-standing time-honored ritual, the two men faced each other and scowled. Neither man budged from his spot to make some sort of private point. Sandan gave another whistle and tossed a bottle to his father, who caught it deftly with one hand. “My hours,” Sandan called out to the bartender, who nodded and marked it down.

Hartin gave Tomas Hellick a look that said, Wegodgoe yourself, turned on his heel and left the cantina. After a moment Tomas strolled out, smiling as if having won a victory.

“Tomas is married to my wife’s sister,” Glendon told his king in a stage whisper. “They have been over for dinner. He is not what I would call a cheerful man.”

“Well, that does not make him sour to the crown, just…” Lycasis searched for the word, and Brent helpfully offered one.

“Tasteless?”

Lycasis shook his head with a small smile, as the others toasted Brent’s word. Lycasis would have toasted him too if he were not in the Standard, surrounded by well-wishers who might unintentionally let it get back to Colonel Hellick. If the man were indeed sour to the crown, Lycasis would need to watch him without Hellick being alerted to the fact.

“Farewell, mighty travelers,” saluted Keleigh Shanaugh from the next booth. She turned around in her seat on the backside of Darien and Lycasis’s side of the booth and knelt on her bench seat. Beside her was Ren Renaugh, who had a tight grip on his drink.

“The Standard will be a quieter place without you,” Ren yelped. “Perhaps their royal majesties might fill the void?” Oriel laughed her happy laugh, a glitteringly lovely sound that made the patrons sigh in satisfaction.

“I believe I would have better results besting young Sandan in a filter toss than in filling the void in the Standard left by my lovely children,” Oriel told him.

Ren gazed at his queen in open admiration for a moment and asked the king, “Your Majesty, are there any more like her at home; nieces, grand-nieces, perhaps?” he asked Lycasis in a plaintive tone. “Cousins, in-laws? Outlaws?”

“No, I believe I was lucky enough to get the one rare Oriel,” Lycasis told him sympathetically. “However, her cousin Melina has a daughter, Lyra.”

“Daughter of Hartin Medina, sister of Sandan?” Ren responded with mild alarm. “Thank you very much, Your Majesty, but I do not believe willingly placing myself between two gigantic millstones will leave much for the fair Lady Lyra to consider, once they have finished grinding me.” Lycasis chuckled at the mental image.

“She is far too young.” Oriel patted Lycasis on the arm gently. “She is still in Academy. Lycasis my dear, you are noble and true, a magnificent king and wonderful husband. But trust me, my darling; you are not quite the matchmaker Major Renaugh needs.”

“Oh, I think my instincts are quite good. I chose you for myself, did I not?”

“Well, that was simply good taste,” Oriel replied saucily, and a crowd of pilots at a nearby table pounded on the tabletop with their glasses in agreement and yipped little cheers of approval. The salute spread rapidly around the cantina, to Oriel and Lycasis’ delight.

“What is wrong with Captain Shanaugh, Ren?” Glendon asked, and Keleigh shook her head at him. “Why? What is wrong with Ren, captain?”

“She is far too old,” Darien sputtered from his seat below where Keleigh leaned, and she smacked him on the head with her free hand.

“I am not,” she protested.

“She is not,” Stuart agreed with her. “She is much more cautious after having run across you,” he teased Darien, and looked at Keleigh and winked in comradely spirit. She smiled and lifted her glass to Stuart as she privately admired his wholesome good looks. “Do not let him taint your enthusiasm, Keleigh,” Stuart advised.

“I simply consider the source,” she assured him, as she tipped her glass until the liquid slowly dribbled out onto the top of Darien’s head. Oriel put her hand over her own mouth, but the amusement in her eyes told Darien something was amiss. Lycasis glanced over and quickly looked away as he grinned broadly at Stuart, Carrol, and Gareth. Darien reached up and felt his damp head. He uttered a roar but by that time, Keleigh had scrambled out of the booth and raced for the women’s toilet.

“What you need, my boy, is a woman with spirit like that,” Lycasis told Darien.

Stuart watched her as she ran and privately agreed. A woman like that was what any man needed.

“Why, she will seek to drown me the first chance she gets! Find a match for Keleigh or Ren if you wish, Father, but let me set my own course, thank you,” Darien chuckled as he wiped the liquid from his head with a cloth.

There was a stirring at the door again for a visitor even rarer to the cantina than Lycasis and Oriel. Aura Phillipi de Ardenne regally glided through the doorway as the patrons parted for her willingly. She was grace and beauty in slippers, and every man who stepped aside gazed in open appreciation. She executed a curtsy to the king and queen, and then to her husband.

“I have few potables to offer, my prince,” she told Stuart in a voice rich with dignity, “but I should very much like to accompany you to quarters for a nightcap.” She was astonished at her own boldness and felt her heart beating wildly but was determined to make up for destroying his clothing. If publicly declaring her interest would please Stuart then she would do so and in front of Darien, too. Guilt had mastery over her pride tonight.

Stuart rose to his feet and gave his fellow revelers a grand bow. “I shall see you on the morrow; my lady calls.”

Oriel glanced at Aura curiously as a troubled frown came to her regal mouth.

Stuart left with his wife cheerfully, and gradually the other scouts followed suit in order to rest for the coming journey. Lycasis decided to take advantage of Oriel’s presence in the Standard and claimed the booth for them and Erich. Erich was delighted to be included in such precious time with his grandparents, and Oriel taught him the proper way to imbibe. No one mentioned the Thelan gakki piss incident in Oriel’s presence, and Erich regained some of his dignity in the Standard.

Darien and Gareth accompanied Carrol to her quarters, and Darien teased her as only a big brother could. Gareth continued down the hall to his own quarters. To his surprise, Lia Hellick de Neo waited there, tucked in the little doorway niche. She wore a low-cut top that highlighted her feminine attributes that might have been more appropriate for a flirtatious single woman to wear rather than a respectable married one.

“Are you lost?” he asked bluntly.

“Yes, I think I lost my way some time ago,” she sighed.

“Well as I recall, your quarters are somewhere over on that area of the ship,” Gareth replied as he gestured over his left shoulder while he unlocked his door. “Goodnight, Dame Hellick.” He went inside and was startled to find her attempt to enter after him. “This is not seemly, as the vicar would say. Go on home, Dame Hellick,” Gareth said. He jerked the door open wider and pointed to the hallway. She wrapped his arm in the circle of her hands and looked at him beseechingly.

“Do not send me away, Gareth,” she whispered. “Let me visit a while.”

“Why?”

“I am so unhappy,” she said to him. “When you leave on the mission I will be devastated.”

“How can that be, you have not said one word to me in all this time,” Gareth snorted, and attempted to force her out.

“Gareth, please,” she crooned, one hand on the collar of his tunic. “I have no one with whom I can really talk. We used to have such fun, talking, and laughing, and more,” she said as she pulled at the fastening at his throat. “I always so look forward to see you go about your business. It puts a brighter glow on my whole day.”

“Your day will have to glow over your husband’s business,” Gareth reminded her crisply. “You forfeited the right to glow on my account.”

“And I suppose the princess glows for you now,” she observed unhappily. Her wandering fingers came across the knotted scarf around his neck, and she tugged at it. She stared at the cloth when it peeped out from under the stiff collar. She looked up into his eyes, and he nodded at her.

“The point is, Dame Hellick, that you are not free to dally with whomever you please, and I find satisfaction in the happy pursuit of someone else, however restricted it may be. Get out of my quarters,” he told her firmly.

She jerked her hand away from his scarf, her eyes narrowing as she studied his face. “So, it is true. You are Her Highness’s new lover.”

“No. I am Her Highness’s old friend.”

“What difference, to your atenn,” she said in a sulk. “It is all just semantics, where it is concerned.”

“Why, Dame Hellick!” Darien’s voice greeted from the hallway. Gareth wheeled around to see Darien Phillipi with his arms crossed over his chest and his feet apart and firmly planted where he stood, a grin of wicked delight on his face. “What a naughty word, from such sweet wholesome lips!”

“Why, this man attacked me as I was passing by,” she declared, and pointed at Gareth.

Darien laughed at her. “From what I just overheard I know the opposite holds true. Dame Hellick, may I escort you back to your lodging before your husband decides to look for you?”

“You mind your tongue,” she snapped, and pushed her way past Gareth to the hallway.

“When I do, women seem to enjoy it,” Darien confessed. She stared at him for a moment before squalling in anger and frustration. She broke away and rushed down the hall. Darien chuckled. “I have not lost my touch for offending.” Turning to Gareth, he asked, “Do you expect any other mad-with-desire women to come calling?”

“I did not expect that one,” Gareth replied. “Where are you heading?”

“I happen to have a meeting with a willing lass in her bachelor quarters,” Darien confessed cheerfully. “She does not seem like she will mind my tongue.” He peered at Gareth’s knotted scarf. “Is that my sister’s?”

“No, it is mine,” Gareth replied, and quickly tucked it back under his tunic collar.

“…now,” Darien added with a grin, and went on his way.

The next duty round after their rest, the six assembled in the main hanger of the Quantid along with a multitude of well-wishers. Oriel waited in sorrowful preparation to send her children out into the great unknown. Erich and Triton stood beside her with longingly glances at the ships, wishing they could also go. Aura, Isador, and Janis waived gaily at their husbands, who returned the farewell with kissed salutes.

A small medical contingent from the Daven Bau called out to Carrol, and Darien winked at his “willing lass”. As he casually looked around at the assembled, he caught sight of Glendon’s daughter Echo Garin, beside her mother. She raised a hand and gently waved her fingers at him. Darien was amused that while he could not even remember the name of the willing lass, he remembered the name Echo Garin easily. He pursed his lips and sent her an air-kiss, and she smiled and looked away shyly as any cadet in the throes of first fancy would. He waited until she looked at him again, and his eyebrows lifted in exaggerated interest. She continued to smile as she allowed her nose to crinkle up, as if to taunt him. Darien bellowed out a delighted laugh.

The bartenders of the Quantid held up a banner for Gareth. It read: DRINKS ARE ON GARETH’S HOURS! Gareth laughed and shook his fist at them.

Lycasis came forth to address them. “Our good scouts, we wish you God’s fortune and pray for a safe and successful mission. Good luck.” He shook their hands one by one, and they climbed into their cockpits. When he came to Gareth, he smiled as they shook hands. “Remember the promise you made me at Festival,” he said privately to the engineer.

“I will keep a proper distance, sire,” Gareth said stoically.

“Well, that too; but I was thinking of the other one. The last thing you said to me that evening.” Gareth thought for a moment, puzzled, then nodded slowly and smiled as Lycasis reminded, “you said, ‘I promise I will be worthy of her’. I am holding you to that, Gareth Duncan.”

“I will not let you down, sire,” Gareth promised.

When Lycasis came to Carrol, he said, “Be happy, and come back to your dear old father.” She hugged him and promised, and then got into her ship.

The six ships went to the airlock and from there into space. There, they each executed a victory roll, and dashed off into the unknown at a speed that none of the massive Armada ships could hope to match.

Stuart settled into his seat and reflected that before long, he would not be able to find a comfortable way to sit. It was estimated it would take the scouts several ginta, possibly even months of flight at this speed, to reach the new world. Brent wore a specially designed moisture suit that the medical team created for Aquatics to keep the skin comfortable for the long journey, and there was a great deal of extra water on board his ship. Each ship was loaded with nutrition chips, wafer-like food sources perfected for lengthy missions in small ships.

Stuart flipped on the ship-to-ship com to check the communication clarity at ultralight speed. “Testing, testing. This is Good Lad. Please respond.” After a crackle or two, he heard their voices, using their chosen code names.

“Naughty Boy, checking in,” Darien replied.

“Her Nibs here,” Carrol managed, as she tried to figure out what she sat on that was so uncomfortable.

“Guardian here,” Glendon called out. “Are we there yet?”

“Sword-and-Fist, at your service,” Gareth grunted.

“Wet Dream, as you wish,” Brent responded. The com was busy with howls of both dismay and delight.

“All I could manage was Guardian,” Glendon complained. “I’m far too pedantic.”

“Is everything reading well?” Stuart asked. The affirmatives were unanimous. “We should have a fairly uneventful trip, for the most part. Barring some unforeseen occurrence, we should only make a few adjustments to the automatic controls.”

“I programmed them as I was told,” Gareth said. “All other bets are off.”

“You did not happen to program a bar to pop up, did you?” Darien asked, probing around his chair with a curious hand. “Just wondering.”

“As much as I would have liked, no,” Gareth replied. “Your Nibs, is there trouble?”

Carrol finally succeeded pulling the object on which she sat out from under her and inspected it under a cockpit lamp. “No, I – oh!”

“What?”

“What is it?” Brent and Glendon chorused, concerned.

“Is something wrong, Nibs?” Stuart asked.

“No, I am well, quite well.”

“Did you find it?” Gareth asked.

“Yes, I did,” she said with a little note of chagrin in her voice.

“What did you find? What did he put there?” Glendon asked curiously.

“It is a book,” she answered. “Reading material for the flight.”

“What book?” Darien asked.

“Just a textbook,” Gareth assured him.

“Oh, God of All,” Darien snorted. “You are an amateur. You do not give a woman a dry book as a gift! Father wasted his worry on you two.” Gareth just laughed, and Carrol simply responded with a soft, “Mmm.”

She stroked the old, time worn cover of the book tenderly, wondering where he might have gotten a copy. She had not seen one of these in years. Perhaps he traded some of his considerable number of hours for it or built some sort of mechanical wonder for the former owner. Whatever was done, it was ever so twisted of him to give it to her, just before a long journey separated by two ships’ hulls and the swiftness of ultralight travel. She opened it to page one.

The Tarinade, by author unknown.

“I am getting some sort of signal on the com,” Glendon reported with excitement one day after months of flight through space. The other five Thuringi scouts took note and checked the communicators in their ships. “There is a good deal of music, but the language is strange.”

“Of course, it is strange,” Darien snorted. “That is only to be expected.” He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. The triangular ships flew in a tight wedge formation, too close together to risk a nice full-sized stretch in the cockpit. It would not do to travel so far, only to run into each other now with their destination within com range.

“No no; it is more than simply an unknown language. It is either several differing languages, or a very clever way of getting around the universal translator.”

“I have it, too,” Gareth said as he experimented with the controls of his ship. “I shall try to concentrate on one of the languages and see what I can find. Word! I have never heard such confusion!”

“Brent? Are you still with us?” Carrol asked as she watched one of the ships stray a little out of formation. Space flight was hard enough on the air breathing Thuringi, but on an Aquatic like Brent Ardenne it was even more challenging.

“Mmm, yes,” Brent replied, his voice raspy and weary.

“It will not be long,” Stuart told him hopefully.

“Word, that is a massive world there,” Darien muttered as a large, red-streaked planet with shaded bands of red and white clouds came into view. “Is that the source of the communication?”

“No, it is further in toward the sun.”

“Well, if they can talk, then I presume they can eat,” Darien said. “I never thought I would say it, but I could use a nice fat friak right now, roasted and juicy to perfection.”

"Stop talking about food," Stuart groaned to his twin. "I am down to my last ration packets now."

“I have a lock on one of their frequencies,” Gareth announced. “It may take some time for the com system to digest and translate this language.”

“Well, anything is an improvement,” Stuart pointed out. “Brent, you are listing.”

“I… oh. Sorry.”

“Brent,” Carrol said, “Would you like a catch-line?”

“Yes, I would at that, little sis.”

She sent out a towline that fastened onto the Wet Dream. She did not like the sound of strain in his voice, and the relief in his reply confirmed her suspicion that he might not be able to pilot his ship well enough to make an unassisted landing. “Darien, catch Brent’s other side,” she directed. “Stuart can go ahead of us and establish contact.”

“All right.”

“Look at the world ringed with orbiting rock,” Gareth noted after a while. “That is one of the prettiest planets we have come across in a long time.”

“Oh, I am not so sure,” Darien mused. “I have seen better." He impatiently tugged his long blonde braid of hair over so it would not rest between his back and the seat. It was times like these that he wondered why he bothered with the Thuringi Air Command tradition of long single braids. But they all wore braids and if the others did not complain, Darien would not either.

“Look at this; it is a dead red,” Stuart commented as they passed by another planet.

“We have seen many of those,” Gareth said idly. “I think I have something! Let us slow down; the com source is coming up fast.”

“Oh, look at it, just look at it!” Glendon gasped as they approached the planet issuing the communications. “Brent, look! All that blue – it must be water!”

“And so much land, and the greenery! What a bounty!” Gareth said with a whistle of surprise.

“There is so much white on it; I wonder what that means,” Brent mumbled. He felt a trickle on his lower lip and reached up to touch it. He drew his hand back and stared at the blood. So: his lips were parched. He hoped Glendon was right. It has to be water; it must be water down there. The suit specially designed to keep his Aquatic body hydrated held no liquid now and what little moisture remained was not enough to meet his needs.

“I will lead; follow me, scouts!” Stuart said with a boisterous chuckle and headed down through some clouds near a place where the water met the land. The others followed him. He just broke through the clouds and was surprised to find the land closer than he realized, and a ground-based vehicle was aimed right for him. He made an evasive maneuver and watched helplessly as the vehicle swerved and went off the road. “Oh, damn! I have it, I have it!” he said as he went after the ground craft.

“We just arrived, and already he is breaking toys,” Darien noted with devilish glee. Brent chuckled but did not reply.

End of Book 0

NEXT - Book 1 - Flight of the Armada Chapter 1: What A Bounty