CHAPTER 30, Dragon's Revenge

“Iianthe?” Kim called the purple-tip dragon with his mind as well as his voice. “Iianthe, we need to know what Amanda is up to. We need to know how the other villagers fare. But they are far away and we cannot fly to them right now. Can you help us?”

His mind and ears remained empty of any dragon presence.

“Maybe Irythros will answer me,” Konner offered.

“Try. Irythros is more adventurous and eager to please than Iianthe. My dragon is serious and all too aware of his status as the only purple-tip in the nimbus.” Kim sipped the herbal infusion the local women called tay. It tasted nuttier and sweeter than real tea. Still, it refreshed him and kept him occupied while the old women who had not been in the fields finished preparing the communal pot of stew.

Konner turned on his sitting rock and faced the bay. His brow furrowed in concentration.

“All I get is emptiness.” He turned back to face the evening bonfire, shaking his head. “It’s like they are all occupied with something else.”

“You both look as if you have a headache,” Kat said, joining them. Her own face looked pale and her eyes squinted as if the campfire was too bright.

“Try some tay,” Kim offered her a cup and the pottery jug filled with the hot brew. “What have you been doing to share our headache—besides working twice as hard as anyone else out in the bright sun?”

“Trying to contact Gentian. I really miss my flywacket. His purr cures any number of ailments, including headaches.” She sipped at the tay, grimaced at the strange taste, then sipped again. A little of the strain eased from her face but not her hunched shoulders and scrunched neck muscles. “I stood at the festival pylon and reached out with my mind. I found him trying to dismantle the abandoned hydroponics tank for a pump and hoses. He’s helping Paola without permission from the nimbus.”

“Speaking of working too hard,” Loki joined them. He carried a larger mug that smelled of beer. “What are we going to do about Ms. Lucinda Baines?” He folded his legs and sank onto his own rock. “I don’t think she carried more than two handfuls of pebbles all day.”

“Let her go hungry,” Konner muttered. He stretched his back. He’d spent the day wrestling a pair of oxen into a yoke and then plowing. His ability to lift heavy objects with his mind should have made the job easier. Psi powers drained more energy from the body than hard physical work.

Only the Tambootie eased the burden. Konner rarely indulged in the drug.

Kim had a hard time fighting his constant need to lick the oils from the leaves and then chew them, even when he wasn’t working magic.

The old women and young children passed plates of stew around to one and all. Kim ate hungrily, barely noticing the chunks of fish that had gone into the mix. The men had not had a chance to hunt today. He and his brothers had eased their refusal to eat meat enough to consider fish edible. The addition of shellfish from the shore made a nice change in their diet.

Yaakke picked up a reed flute and began playing a lilting ballad about a lover lost at sea. One of the women picked up the tune in a husky alto. A tenor voice added harmony.

And then, miracle of miracles, Cyndi added her clear soprano. She sang the sweet lyrics with passion while the village as a group hummed along in a quiet resonance until the last poignant chorus where the dragons returned the lost sailor to his lover.

Loki sat with his mouth open in wonder. “She actually joined the group!”

“I wish I could sing as well as she does,” Kat said around a yawn. “Might ease the long lonely nights aboard ship.”

“Did she sing while aboard Jupiter?” Loki asked.

“Once. She got a little tipsy during a poker game. She sang as she cleaned us all out of chips. I could have sworn she cheated, but I never figured out how.”

“I thought if we gave Cyndi enough freedom, she might try to escape to Base Camp,” Loki muttered. “Now she seems to be fitting in a bit, she might prove an asset. Our people do love their music.”

“I don’t think we need to worry about Cyndi harboring Hanassa’s spirit. Amanda Leonard’s insanity and attempt to enslave the locals is more typical of the rogue dragon than Cyndi singing love ballads,” Kim said.

“I agree,” Loki said quietly. Then he related Cyndi’s strange dream.

“Sounds like Hanassa tried to gain a foothold here to work mischief against us,” Kim admitted.

“We need a spy at Base Camp, but I wouldn’t ask anyone to volunteer for that dangerous job,” Konner said.

“S’murghit, we need to find out what is happening at Base Camp.” Kim slammed his cup against his sitting rock, sloshing tay on the ground and onto his buckskin breeches. Just one more stain among many.

Kat’s head jerked up. She stared at the rising moon in intense concentration. All traces of the earlier headache vanished from her expression and posture.

“What is it?” Kim whispered.

“Gentian,” she breathed. “He’s coming back.” Her shoulders relaxed and a smile crossed her face. “He’s certainly a chatterbox tonight.”

“What’s he saying?” Kim asked. He hoped that Gentian had messages from the dragons.

“Right now he’s flooding my mind with images of his hunt. Yuck, I didn’t need to know the fine details of gutting a squirrel.” She grimaced as if the images had left a bad taste in her mouth.

“Wait a minute.” She held up her hand to hold off Loki’s sarcastic comment. “Paola now has the parts to make a pump and hose to fight off the snakes.” She paused another moment while she listened. “He saw a line of people walking this way from the big river—I think they are the slaves who escaped from Amanda. They are weary but safe, about a week’s walk from here.”

“How many?” Kim asked. He whipped out a handheld and began plotting the number of acres they would need to feed additional mouths.

“Gentian doesn’t think in numbers,” Kat replied. She stood up, eyes still on the moon.

A shadow crossed the pale surface. Villages stood to look as well. Some of them crossed themselves in superstitious fear. Many more crossed their wrists and flapped their hands in a ward against Simurgh, the bloodthirsty demon dragon they used to worship.

“There he is,” Kat sighed in relief. Then her face and body stiffened.

“What, Kat?” Kim asked. He did not dare imagine what new worry replaced his sister’s joy at the return of her flywacket.

“Amanda and her Marines have fired up the forge. They are making weapons to replace their stunners. Lethal weapons. This time they mean to kill all those who resist.”

“Solo merchant vessel, this is Imperial Military Police Cruiser Hercules. Identify yourself,” a crisp male voice announced over Quinn’s comm system.

Martin sank back into his body from the jump with a stomach lurching jolt. He shook his head to clear it.

Jane shook Quinn’s shoulder to rouse him.

“What do we do?” Bruce whispered, as if the vessel outside could hear them.

Martin slapped the comm unit. “Hercules, this is Imperial Scout Margaret Kristine, piloted by Adam Jonathan Quinnsellia,” Martin said in his deepest voice. Was that how Quinn would introduce himself?

“State the nature of your mission, Pilot Quinnsellia.”

“I’m on a private mission for His Imperial Majesty.”

“Not enough info, Quinnsellia. You could be anybody trying to bluff your way past this blockade.”

Aurora blockaded? Martin’s head spun with questions. No time for speculation. He had to convince this IMP cruiser that they were on a legitimate mission or risk being sent back to Aurora and Melinda’s wrath.

“Secrecy code,” Quinn mumbled. “Alpha, alpha, alpha, one, one, one, zeta, two, quantum, three.”

Martin repeated the code out loud to the IMP cruiser.

“Good hunting, Agent Quinnsellia,” the voice from Hercules replied. “Let us know if you find any trace of the Jupiter in your travels. Politics are heating up over the loss of that ship and the dippo they carried as a passenger. His Majesty, in particular, wants that ship found.”

“Will do,” Martin replied. He shut off the comm link and stared at the pilot’s screens. “Now how do I get this thing underway?”

Quinn touched a few places on his screen. “You have control. Steer by the touch screen.”

Martin placed one finger on the dark rectangle at the center of his controls. An icon of the ship appeared on the viewscreen along with a glyph representing the IMP cruiser.

“Now ease your way around the other ship. Very light touch,” Quinn directed. His eyes crossed and he looked close to losing consciousness again.

Martin complied. The icon careened a long way toward starboard.

“You having problems, Quinnsellia?” The voice from the IMP cruiser overrode Martin’s cut off of the comm system.

“Too broad a stroke. This isn’t a VR game. Little movements,” Quinn advised.

“Let me do that,” Jane eased into position next to Martin. She placed her smaller fingers on the screen and barely moved them. The icon of the ship straightened up and moved slowly around the cruiser. “You talk to the man and make it sound like you really are Quinn.”

“Um . . . Hercules, that last jump was rough,” Martin said. “Left me a little dazed at first. I’m okay now.”

“You flying solo? Sounds like you need some help. I’ll gladly lend you a navigator.”

“Don’t let him. He just wants to monitor my mission,” Quinn protested. “IMPs don’t like the fact that His Majesty employs solo agents.”

Martin nodded and returned his attention to the comm. “If I let your navigator aboard, I’d have to mind-wipe him. That would defeat the purpose of his presence. Thanks for the offer anyway, Hercules. Margaret Kristine out.”

This time Quinn turned off the comm unit and added a few extra commands. “He won’t override that again.”

“You look better, but still shaky, Quinn,” Jane said, as she steered the ship into space beyond the IMP.

“Can you navigate us to the next jump?” Quinn asked. He posted coordinates on the upper left-hand corner of Martin’s screen. Their current position appeared in the upper right-hand corner.

“I think so.” Jane bumped Martin with her hip, indicating he should move.

He scooted out of the chair and let her take his place. She settled comfortably, never letting up her control of the steering. “Just a matter of watching the numbers until they match. I’ve worked similar exercises at home manipulating robotic arms for virtual dissections in biology.”

“I’ve worked robotic arms when I rebuilt my dad’s home security system,” Kurt chimed in. “If I could shadow Jane’s moves for a little while, I’m sure I could spell her.”

Good idea.” Quinn tumbled out of his own chair so that Kurt could take it. “I’ll be in my quarters with the med kit. Holler if you run into any problems bigger than space dust. The galley is fully stocked, help yourselves. Oh, and Martin, why don’t you see if you can load your star map into my system.”

“The only copy is on Melinda’s computer.”

“Is it?”

Martin fingered the blue crystal in his pocket and wondered the same thing.