Chapter Thirty-One

**

I yawn, and roll over at the same time. The other side of the bed is empty, as I expected; Gwen rarely sleeps more than four hours or so. The early morning sun weakly colors the room, and I sit up, wrapping the tan-colored silk sheets around myself. It’s cold, I think, but then again, the way the Draka are, they wouldn’t notice this chill at all. I pad softly into the bath, and shower, relishing the heat from the water. I feel relaxed, tired, sort of buzzed. All reactions to being laid by a Homo Drakensis, the tiny voice in my mind whispers. Chemicals.

No, I argue back silently. It’s more than that. Somehow, across the centuries and the universes, across races, Gwen and I have made some sort of connection, and part of my reaction to last night is linked to that. I mean, sex can make you feel great, but if it’s sex and just that, the feeling doesn’t last very long. This is deeper. I don’t completely understand it, I’ll admit that. How can I be in love with someone who enslaves me? Despite that, I know what my feelings are for Gwen, and that they’re reciprocated. Odd how life is, sometimes.

I wrap myself up in an oversized terrycloth bathrobe and tiptoe out of the bath. A cloud of steam precedes me, and dissipates rapidly in the cool morning air. I walk through the living chamber, picking up clothes that had been discarded in the heat of the moment last night, folding them as I walk. At least she didn’t shred my clothes like she does sometimes when she gets, well, excited, I grin to myself. This sweater’s a favorite of mine.

As I walk by the oak-paneled room that serves as Gwen’s office, I pause briefly. I thought I heard something, I think to myself, and peek around the corner of the half-open door. Inside, I see Rolf, head bent intently to his task, sorting rapidly through papers on Gwen’s desk. That’s odd, I think. Those are her private journal notes he’s looking at. She rarely lets anyone see them. Hmm. I shouldn’t interfere, though; I quickly move past the door and hum out loud, so that he knows I’m out here. Surprised Draka are often unhappy Draka, and it’s not safe to be around unhappy Draka.

He pops out of the room like he’s been shot out of a cannon’s mouth. "Erin…you’re up early this morning."

I bow, and wait for his hand signal to stand up straight again. Schalk DeLange doesn’t insist on this type of protocol from me in private, and neither does Gwen; Rolf is new, and needs to be treated carefully. His hand flicks upward, and I rise, meeting his eyes as I do so. They shock me.

His voice is carefully controlled, but his eyes are like drills, piercing me with a cold blue stare. The smile on his face looks pasted on, too, I realize, and shiver. "Yes, Uhmas Rolf, I woke up and decided to take a shower. How are you today, Uhmas?"

"Fine. I’m fine. Showering, eh?" He moves closer, taking me into his arms and kissing me firmly. "You certainly have a lovely scent, wench of my soon-to-be-wife’s…" His strength terrifies me, especially in view of the way he just looked at me a moment ago.

"Uh…Uhmas, mmphh…please," I whisper, moving my mouth away from his with a turn of my head. "Please, I’m, well, tired…from last night, and Muhmis…"

"True, you humans don’t have the stamina we Draka have…maybe later today, then?" He lets me go, and I nod rapidly. Sure, sure, anything you say, boss-man. Just let me out of here! He kisses me again, and then walks from the room, leaving me shaken.

Once I know he’s gone, I go into Muhmis’ office and look at the papers on her desk. Most are basically bureaucratic mumbo-jumbo needing her signature; amazing how much of the Draka empire still runs on paper and signatures. But under those papers are her notes from the last strategy planning session she and the other Planetary Archons had here. Those are for her private journals, I know; she has me transcribe them usually once a week into a secured database. Interesting back-room dealings, political alliances and sometimes plots that shouldn’t see the light of day; she trusts me implicitly with them, since she knows how loyal I am to her, and her alone.

He’s been through them; if there’s one thing Gwen is, she’s methodical. All these pages should be in date order; two are out of sync with the rest. Both deal with resentments about Alexis Renston, voiced by other Planetary Archons during a particularly heated meeting a week ago. Gwen had smoothed things over but the tension’s still there, and building. They resent having to answer to him and the Archonal Council for everything they do strategically; the centralized Draka Archonate is starting to crack at the seams as more universes are opened for exploration and colonization.

Hell. He shouldn’t be reading her private stuff, even if he’s planning on marrying her. It’s like stealing a read or two inside someone’s diary. It’s private; it’s hers. And it’s politically explosive stuff; even little ole me knows that much. Hmmm…isn’t he one of Alexis’ aides? Or was? Now he’s a liaison officer from the Archonate to here, Earth/2. Oh, hellfire. This isn’t good at all.

I straighten the papers, making a note of which ones were out of order and where they were on her desk, and leave the room, my mind awhirl. How do I tell her? I mean, she’s in love with the guy, for God’s sake. And, too, she knows I have worries about her marriage to Rolf and Schalk. She’d be likely to think I was just being jealous, or insecure, or something like that… maybe she asked him to look at them. No, I don’t think so, somehow. She’s never shown her notes to anyone, at least not to my knowledge. No one but me. Hell.

I get dressed and wander down to the kitchen for a quick breakfast. I’m still trying to think of a reason that would justify him digging through her papers, and I can’t come up with one that holds water for more than a minute or so. Who should I talk with about this? I’m not sure I should go straight to Gwen on this one, I think to myself. The orange juice puts some life back in me, and the English muffins with raspberry jelly put some spring into my step. I thank the serving wench who brought me my morning vittles, and she blushes brightly before scampering back into the kitchen. Pretty young thing, I think. Maybe I should ask her out sometime. I smile at myself—still noticing the pretty women, even though you’re getting up there in years, you old she-goat, I fuss silently to myself. Yep. Always had an eye for the ladies.

Checking in at my office, I find a rose and a note from Gwen on my desk. "Take the rest of the day off, my pretty pony. Gwen." I grin, and feel the heat rising in my face as the blush spreads. Yannan and Rosta, the two serfs Tamarindus gave Gwen for Alice and my wedding, grin back at me unrepentantly. Then they busy themselves in the ever-present paperwork and information gathering that my office needs to support Gwen’s work here on Earth/2. My growl at them is half-hearted, and they know it. Their tanned faces grin even more widely as I leave, and I hear Yannan whisper to Rosta:

"Must have been damn impressive last night…"

I chuckle, and close the door softly behind me. Yes, it was damn impressive. Gwen can be so… gentle, and erotic, and powerful, all at the same time. I guess out of all the Draka to be owned by, I’m damn lucky it’s her. Stopping by the library, I pick up a copy of Hamlet, and wander out into the shady garden to my favorite reading spot. Soon, I’m lost in Denmark, surrounded by murder and intrigue… without resolving the questions in my mind about Rolf and what he was doing this morning.

**

"Erin?" Schalk DeLange stands over me. The book I was reading has fallen into my lap, and I start from my sleep, rubbing at my eyes.

He chuckles and sits down next to me on the marble bench. "Sleepy head. Are you awake now? I have something I need to discuss with you."

"Yes, Uhmas Schalk." I yawn. "Didn’t mean to fall asleep…"

"I hear you and Gwen had a particularly nice evening…you probably need the sleep! But this is serious. Fully conscious?" His smile vanishes, replaced by a pensive look.

"Yes, sir." I sit up straight, and close the book, marking my place with a cloth bookmark Alois had made me a few weeks ago. Dragons on it, of course.

"I was monitoring the security of the Household this morning, and noticed an odd glitch. The recorders for your Muhmis’ office went off line for 38.95 seconds. Then they powered back up. Did she authorize that? Do you know?"

"No, Uhmas. I don’t know that she did. She wasn’t in her office this morning when I got up, but…" I pause, unsure of how to go on.

"What?" His eyes are looking directly into mine, and his voice has grown quiet, and serious. "Who was in her office this morning around 0720?"

I whisper: "Uhmas Rolf was."

His eyebrows shoot up, and he blinks several times. I’ve learned that both are signals of surprise from a Draka, rarely shown. "Rolf? What was he doing?"

"Please, sir, I don’t know if I should…"

"Tell. Me." His voice has the flat crack of command in it, and I stiffen, sitting next to him on the bench. Overhead, the wind moves softly through the overarching branches, making a soft whisper of sound in the background. Birds—barn swallows, some distant portion of my mind catalogues—twitter overhead in the warm wind. The smell of new-mown grass and magnolias come to me, and I inhale deeply before answering his command. It calms me.

"Uhmas Schalk, Uhmas Rolf was in her office, at her desk. I saw him briefly as I walked by, from the bath. He was going through papers on her desk. He was very surprised to see me. He thought about bedding me, but I begged off, saying I was tired from last night. He was very tense. He left, and then…"

"Go on," Schalk says softly, cupping my chin in a gentle, steel-strong grip. "Go on, Erin. Tell me."

"He…I…I went into her office, and looked to see what he had been looking at. He had been going through her private journal notes, the ones I haven’t transcribed yet. Two were out of order. Here, I’ll send them to you," I say, my voice shaking slightly. I order my transducer to send copies of the two pages to his transducer, encrypted with the highest level security I’m allowed to have. He waits a moment, translating, digesting the information, and then nods.

"I put the papers back in order, and left her office. I’ve been trying to think of ways to tell her, or you, about this, but I hadn’t come up with any by the time I fell asleep out here. Oh, jeezie petes, it’s five o’clock already? Man, I didn’t realize how long I’ve been out here…"

"Don’t worry. I’ve had my eye on you this afternoon. I knew Gwen had given you the day off. I just wondered why you were being so asocial. That’s not like you."

"I’m worried."

Schalk’s face creases into a brief smile. "So am I, Erin. So am I."

"What should I do, Uhmas Schalk?" I take his hand and hold it between mine, and look up into his eyes. "How should I tell Muhmis? Doesn’t she need to know?"

"Well, yes. But I think perhaps both of us should tell her. There have been some other things going on today that are very…worrisome, and … things are complicated. Tell you what—let’s meet with her, you and I, at six. I’ll ask her for a meeting in the Security Office. Be there, Erin. A-Kay?"

"Yes, sir." My face shows the nervousness my stomach feels. "This could be very…"

"Difficult. Yes. I know, believe me. But we are loyal to Gwen, above all. Remember that always, pretty wench. You understand. Yes?" He squeezes my hand gently, and then strokes my face with a long tanned finger. "I know you do. Six, it is, then."

He stands, and stretches. That’s another sign of tension in a Draka, I think silently to myself. I wonder what else has been going on? Should I ask? Or not?

I guess my face asks for me, since Schalk leans down and quietly, very quietly, whispers in my ear: "We’ve lost contact with one of the exploration probes to Neptune/2. We’re investigating right now. Things could get very hot, very rapidly. Don’t breathe a word of this to anyone. Understand?"

I nod. "The Samos?" My whisper matches his.

"Possibly, but they’re having some problems of their own, from what we’ve been able to decode. Odd thing, but they’ve lost contact with one of their settlements, a small one, outside the Oort band. It was a small scientific team we allowed through for research, and as a good faith measure, and now they can’t get in touch with the team. They’ve been trying for two days now."

"But would we have…I mean, you have…well, you know…" I stumble to a halt. Jeeze, I just included myself with the Draka, I think. I didn’t really think about how odd that was until after I said it. Man.

Schalk stands again, tall, limned against the rosy sunset. "No, we haven’t interfered with them. No Draka from Earth/2, that is. And now, this thing with Rolf…ah, well. Trouble never comes empty-handed. Six, Erin, in the Security Office. Right?"

"Yes, Uhmas Schalk." I stand, too, and gingerly stretch muscles grown stiff from sitting too long. "I’ll grab a bite to eat, and meet you and Muhmis there. Is that all right?"

"That’s fine. I have something else I need to check up on, but I’ll be there at 6…" He gives me a friendly peck on the lips, and a pat on the fanny, and saunters off through the garden. I watch him leave, and then take my book back to the library. From there, I head to the kitchen, where I fend off the cooks’ attempts to load me down with a three-course dinner. I manage to wangle a ham and cheese sandwich out of them, and nibble on it listlessly as I walk through the house towards the Security Office. I don’t have much of an appetite, but if I don’t eat something, I’ll end up with a headache.

I sit outside the Security Office, and check the time on my watch. It’s almost 5:45; they should be arriving here soon, I think. Just as I think that, Gwen appears at the end of the corridor, clad in military blacks and her face set in a cool, detached mood. Her braid is tightly bound and hangs over one shoulder like a waterfall of mahogany along the shimmering surface of her uniform. Tiny red Drakas, ruby and gold, glint at her collar. Her leaf-green eyes are cold, and direct.

"Erin? Let’s go in. I don’t have much time for this meeting Schalk has called me for." She walks into the office, and I follow, nervously.

She sits down in one of the tall-backed leather chairs and steeples her fingers. "Now, tell me, Erin, what’s this all about?"

I pace nervously by the holographic monitors. They’re tuned in to various places around the estate: I see the nursery, a barn where horses nicker softly as night settles down, the school building, rooms in the Household itself. The screens change constantly, scanning faster than I can watch comfortably. As discomfiting as watching the screens is, though, I’d rather watch them than face Gwen. "Um, ah, Muhmis, I think it would be best if we waited for Uhmas Schalk…"

She cuts me off coldly. "I didn’t ask you what you thought. I asked you what this is about. I don’t have a lot of time for games right now. In fact, I really don’t have time for this meeting. Some other… things… are going on, and I need to be involved in them, not some Household security affair."

I stop pacing, knowing that it bothers her, and sit down across the way from her. I fight the urge to curl up in a defensive ball, and force my feet flat on the floor. The silence is deafening. "Um…Muhmis…"

"Erin, Erin," Gwen whispers, closing her eyes and rubbing her temples briefly with her fingers. "I am not in the mood for this. Tell me, wench. That’s an order."

Great. Schalk’s not here yet, and I have to tell her that her lover’s been going through her stuff? Hell’s bells. I clear my throat, sit up straight, open my mouth, and … nothing comes out. I blink nervously, grin, and try again. "Well, Muhmis, it’s like this… I mean, it may be nothing at all, but then again, it could be pretty serious… You can probably clear it all up in a moment or two, and Uhmas Schalk and I will feel embarrassed for being worried and all…"

"You’re usually ever so much better at getting to the point of the matter. Please try to do so now. My patience is wearing thin." She puts her hands on the arms of the chair, and looks directly at me. I have seen that look very rarely, personally, and it puts a chill into the marrow of my bones.

"This morning, I surprised Uhmas Rolf in your office. He was going through your personal papers. He had pulled two of them out, notes from a meeting about political tensions and how they’re growing between the Planetary Archons and the Archon himself. Uhmas Rolf was very nervous and intense. He was very surprised I was still there." I stop, gauging how Gwen’s accepting this.

Her leaf-green eyes have narrowed, and a frown has appeared on her aquiline, tanned face. One eyebrow coolly rises, and she makes a small hand gesture for me to go on.

"Um…well, then…Uhmas Schalk told me there was a security anomaly in your office this morning, when Uhmas Rolf was there. He wanted to know if you authorized the down-time for the sensors. It was several seconds’ worth of off-line time. I said I didn’t know; he wanted to know if anyone was in your office at the time the system was put off-line. I told him about Uhmas Rolf."

"And?"

By this time, I’ve crossed my arms defensively and I’m shivering. Her voice is cold, far colder than I’ve ever heard it. Oh, jeezie petes, what have I gotten into? Where the blazes is Schalk DeLange? "Um, and, well…he said we needed to tell you. The two of us, that is, Uhmas Schalk and me. Um, I. Ah, whatever. You know what I mean. He also told me a little about some of the weird things going on with the two outposts, too, so I know you’re busy."

"Busy is an understatement." Her eyes are spearing me, driving me back into the chair. "So you’ve decided that Rolf is spying on me? Is that it?"

"Umm…no. I haven’t decided anything, Muhmis. I just thought you should know…"

"There again, making rather an assumption, aren’t you?" Her voice cuts like a knife. "He’s one of my betrothed, and I trust him. Completely. Whatever he was doing, he must have had a good reason."

"But, Muhmis, we’re just concerned that…"

"We? We? All I see right now is you: one human wench who may have forgotten her place. That’s what I see. Last night was delightful. You know how strong my feelings are for you. But you will never take the place of a brother or sister of the Race, Erin. You also know that. Or you should, by now." Gwen stands, glowering at me. Her deep, bass growl makes the hair stand up on my neck and arms, and I shrink backwards. "You’re a human. Remember that. Always."

"Yes, Muhmis," I manage to whisper.

"I’ve wasted enough time over this silliness. I don’t know why Schalk hasn’t shown up; he’s several minutes late. And things are building to a crisis, elsewhere. But I will tell you one last thing, wench. Listen, and remember. I won’t say it again. You’re mine, my wench, to do with as I please. If I order every male on this Landholding to mount you, you’ll accept and obey. Clear?"

I swallow, or try to, in a mouth gone dry as the Sahara. "Yes, Muhmis."

"I know you’ve been nervous about this marriage. Perhaps you worry that you’ll lose your place as my favorite, or my Prime Councilor. That won’t happen, unless another little incident like this occurs. Then, you may be in for a shock. Let’s keep that from happening. Remember your place. Am I making myself perfectly clear? You will not attempt to come between me and a lover again. Ever."

"But…but…"

"Ever!" Her voice is a husky roar that almost knocks me out of the chair. My stomach lurches, protesting the ham and cheese sandwich most vehemently.

"I hear and obey, Muhmis," I say quietly, despite the chattering of my teeth. Her hair is beginning to bristle, and the whites all around her eyes are showing. This is danger, girl, the innermost part of me whimpers. Major, big-time, bad shit. Duck and cover, didi mau!

"Good." With that, she turns on her heel and stalks from the room. The security vid screens keep scanning, and a silence, broken only by my sobs, settles over the office.

**

Moments later, Schalk runs into the room. "Hell’s hammers, Erin. Sorry I’m late. Has she already been here?"

"Y-y-yes…" I hide my face, tears still running down my cheeks.

"Shit. Sorry. It was unavoidable. Um, wait one…" I look up, and he’s staring at something his transducer must be showing him. He gasps audibly. "Wotan’s balls…"

"Wha—" Just then, the security alarms go off in my head. I know I’m supposed to be at Muhmis’ side as soon as humanly possible after the alarm has sounded. This one’s not a drill, I bet, and race down the hallway in the wake of Schalk DeLange, who’s sprinting ahead, far faster than I could ever hope to keep up with. I lose sight of him as I stop in my office to check and make sure everyone’s going to the shelters. It’s empty; a steaming cup of coffee waits patiently on a desk for an owner who should be, by now, several floors underground.

I run from there to the Household Command Center. Two Draka stand guard at the door, replacing the usual human Space Force personnel. The Draka have activated their combat armor, and it shifts oddly on their perfectly sculpted forms like a living thing. They glance at me, pause, and then let me pass. I quietly slip into the room, where Draka and human alike recline on couches, processing data, preparing the Landholding for any possible attack. Another group gathers around a chest-high hologram of the solar system, discussing something in quiet but clipped tones. Gwen’s with them, her eyes intent on the hologram; I’m not sure if she knows I’m by her left side, behind her, until she flicks her eyes over me.

"Access the web, Erin, and contact the Samothracian ambassador here on the planet."

I bow my head, and lose myself in the intricate weavings of the global information system. Glyphs and symbols marking my way flash by inside my head, in a virtual world of data and linkage points. I approach the Samothracian ambassador’s link point, and am warned off by hideous-looking security avatars. "Muhmis," I hear myself say, as from a great distance, "I can’t get access. They’ve gone code red, too."

"Damn them." Gwen is suddenly there—her avatar is, in my head—and she blasts a message at the security programs, demanding access. They fade, but do not disappear. She blasts them again, sending the message with enough force to fry a human’s mind, if they’re on the receiving end. I hope no one is. They can replace the machine, I think; humans are more precious. I hope.

Abruptly, we’re through. The security programs fade away, and then we’re in a tastefully decorated office. The ambassador’s aide greets us coolly. "Planetary Archon Ingolfsson. Prime Councilor."

"We don’t have time for the bullshit, Thompson. I need access to the Ambassador. It’s not us attacking. And we know it’s not you. I need to talk with Brewington. Now."

"Just a moment, please," the aide’s web representative says smoothly. "I’ll check to see if she’ll receive you." He blinks out of existence, replaced by a montage of scenes from Samothrace. Great. A travel video, and the world’s falling to hell around our ears. Just lovely.

Grace Brewington appears. "Archon Ingolfsson. What in the name of all that’s holy is going on?"

"I wish I knew, Brewington. I don’t. That’s why we need to work together on this. Call off your wardogs, and I’ll call off mine. Otherwise, things will proceed to a place we neither of us truly wants to visit." Gwen’s voice is cold.

"But…" The Samothracian woman’s avatar pauses, considering. "All right, we do it simultaneously. From my mark, three…two…one…now."

The security code level in my peripheral vision goes from red to dark orange. The two planetary leaders stare at each other in the virtual world we’ve all agreed upon, and finally Gwen smiles. "Thank you. I knew you were a reasonable human."

"I hoped you had a shred of honor, Draka." Brewington’s voice is cool, but she does manage to smile briefly. "Now what in the world is going on?"

"We lost contact with our Neptune/2 outpost at 0912 this morning, standard time. You lost contact with your scientific research post in the Oort around the same time. We never regained contact. Neither did you. And now two of our ships have been fired upon, with some type of energy pulse weapon. One ship was destroyed, with all hands; the other is limping back to base near Titan. You’ve lost the ship you sent out to check on your scientists, with all hands. Same damn weapon system. Whatever’s firing it is cloaked. We haven’t been able to approximate a position, even based on following the firing lines."

I wince, mentally. The ship we lost with all hands was one of the newest Explorer class frigates. 45 personnel aboard, human and Draka mixed. Thank God that neither Patrick nor Alexandra was on it; they’re still in training over Earth/1. I hope, I conclude. I hope that’s where they are. The other ship was a supply vessel—huge and cumbersome looking, but incredibly graceful in spaceflight. 28 souls on board; over half dead from explosive decompression, I think. Damn rough way to go.

"Well, if you’re sure it’s not a renegade Draka, and we know it’s not one of ours… so who does that leave?" Brewington shows a brief schematic to us, and I download it for further processing. It shows the location, give or take some security measures, of every Samo ship in the Earth/2 universe. Gwen acknowledges it, and sends a similar message to me, instructing me to transmit it to the Samothracian ambassador’s aide, who has reappeared. His avatar looks abashed; I bet he got an electronic reaming out for his attitude a few moments ago, I think, with a smirk.

New information flows across my consciousness, and I relay it instantaneously to Muhmis. The ship that was limping back to port never made it; it just blew apart into component bits and pieces as an energy pulse slammed into it from behind. No survivors. That makes 73 dead humans and Draka, in the space of one day. Gwen’s face doesn’t change. The Samothracian ambassador looks somewhat shocked, but then covers it up.

"It’s something quite powerful, whatever the source. We’ll find out what the seventh hell it is, I guarantee you." Gwen sends commands, routed through me, to various Draka spacecraft. They begin to move toward the area that’s speckled with the debris of the supply ship, on high alert. Scanning desperately, they search the area for an anomalous heat signature, anything that might lead them to the attacking ship.

I feel, again, from a great distance, someone laying me on a couch, and putting a transducer band across my forehead; that lessens the wear and tear on the implanted one, and also increases the power and connectivity of what I can do. I feel completely detached from my physical body, and wish, for a fleeting moment, that Peter was here to share the feeling with me. I begin receiving reports from military commanders, Space Force captains, Earth/1 Draka Expeditionary Force Ship commanders who are transiting the mole hole as they send information to me. Soon the area of space near this Earth will be bristling with high powered, deadly DEFS spacecraft, and I immediately delegate organizing them to the highest-ranking Draka commander in the linkage.

Moments go by without Gwen accessing my transducer directly; instead, I can see her organizing a Samothracian-Draka defense line outside Jupiter’s gravity well. I can’t believe it, I think to myself, but the Draka and the Samos are actually scared enough to work together. Amazing. The deluge of information and requests covers me, and I begin sorting through them, a human telephone exchange.

"We can’t hold them, Archon," the captain of the DEFS Raptor-7 calls out. His voice is calm, but there’s a terrible strain in his eyes. "Everything we’ve fired at them has resulted in absolutely no effect. The only time we’ve inflicted any damage on them…the Starhawk interceptor from my ship rammed into one of their spacecraft. We didn’t even know it was there…" His transmission is breaking up as we listen, and then the screen blanks out in a field of electronic noise.

Suddenly, there’s a pause. Everyone, Draka and Samo alike, stops momentarily, as cold, alien tendrils of thought seem to trickle over our minds. Prey/food/consume…target/hit/kill…the images come through roughly at first. Then, shockingly, I see the blank-eyed face of the Draka Captain of the Explorer-class ship, the DEFS Avocet. Merarch Adams, I think. But…blood and brain matter is dripping from the woman’s nose. No wonder her eyes are blank, I realize; she’s dead. But her transducer’s still functioning

Prey! You will die, soon. We come. We will take you. Tasty, sweet blood. We come. Prepare to die, weakling races. We hunger. The words come out in her soprano voice, still hauntingly lovely, but chilling to the bone. The menace behind the words is unmistakeable. So is the alien tone. My jaw drops open. Something that can kick the Draka’s butt? It’s finally happened. Oh, my god

"Shut down the link! Shut it down, gods be damned!" Gwen cries out, suddenly gripping her head in her hands. The other Draka are apparently experiencing the same surge of agony. I come to myself, lying on the couch, transducer band in my hands. My head hurts; abrupt departure from the Web does that. I watch in horror as one young Draka, a decurion in the DEFS, spasms uncontrollably on his couch, limbs jolting outward in pain. Blood seeps from eyes, nose, ears… a sudden, sharper spasm, and he slumps, boneless, on the leather.

One of the nearby computers beeps for attention…we turn as a group from the dead decurion to the holographic monitor. On it, we can see video of the Samothracian ambassador’s office. A young man sprawls across the carpet, his back arching impossibly high in a seizure. Medical personnel are trying to restrain him without success. The Ambassador approaches the camera, and holds up a paper pad with writing on it. "We’ve lost audio, and accessing the Web is now deadly, apparently. Can you read this?"

Gwen strides over to the screen, and nods, emphatically. I hand her a notebook, and she writes on it hurriedly. "We acknowledge your transmission. Wait one; we’ll send over a team with audio equipment. We’ve had casualties from the surge on the Web, as well. Stay off the Web. Go to your highest alert status; prepare for evacuation."

"Evacuate? Where will we go, Muhmis?" I can’t take my eyes off the dead decurion. He was a nice sort; always polite, good chess player. I can’t remember his name, and that upsets me terribly. He’s dead, and I can’t remember his name.

"Through a mole hole. We have contingency plans already in place. Here, Erin, let’s try linking our transducers. Be prepared to pull out if you feel anything odd, anything at all. Understand me?"

I nod. Suddenly Gwen’s voice is in my head. Everything seems all right…apparently it’s just the Web that’s deadly right now. Must have accessed it through her transducer. Are you all right, Erin?

I nod again, and reach out to hug her. Surprised, she hesitates for a brief second or two, but then folds me into her comforting, strong, familiar embrace. I’ll keep you safe, Erin. You and the children. A mental image of a long kiss, tender and firm, and then she’s gone from my head. I see other Draka look momentarily blank, and then hasten to obey her calm, cool orders. The evacuation plans get under way; I soon have more responsibilities than I can comfortably handle, but I manage. All around the globe, humans and Draka are being ordered to take shelter in preplanned areas; there is some hysteria among the humans, but a cold, tremendous anger surges from the Draka who respond.

Samothracian and Draka alike begin to exit via the moleholes established now for decades; to other universes, to other planets. I watch the ships blink out of existence, and wonder what will happen next. Will the things, the aliens, arrive soon? How can we escape? Can they follow us? What about all the billions left here? The research stations? The terraformers on Mars? In the midst of all this, Alois finds me, his eyes huge with excitement.

I hug him to me, hiding him momentarily from the sight of the decurion’s body being removed from the Command Center. Death is all around us; I can’t hide him from it forever, but I can right now. He’s jittery with anxiety and energy; I put him to work organizing the other Household children and their menagerie of pets for transport. Gwen briefly stops what she’s doing to kiss him on the top of the head, and then she’s ordering me, Alois, and the Household children on board a ship, leaving almost immediately. I see that the children are on board safely, and then wangle my way back down to the ground, pleading with my security clearance. I watch the ship take off silently, and vanish into the night sky.

I’ll stay here, with Gwen, or wherever she goes. I’ll take my chances that way. More ships leave, heading for moleholes around the planet. I watch, unable to look away, as each ship slips away with its load of hope and reason. Gwen is there, suddenly, a strong, muscled arm around my waist. I lean against her, relishing the warmth from her body in the darkness of the night. The question of Rolf’s actions still lingers, but seems a tiny thing in comparison to what’s happened in the last few hours. I’m tired, I think. Very, very tired.

A ship hovers nearby, and a floater approaches, taking us up into the waiting maw of the Draka WarBird transport craft. As the hatch dials shut behind us, I have a last glimpse of the world I’ve known all my life. The household is still lit up, but empty. The village is dark, all the inhabitants having been ushered underground into sealed survival habitats. We lift, like the wind; the escape from Earth begins…

**