“You are on the Farside hemisphere of Tagnaghoutsozaeng. Y’know? Gvurrdon 2123?” explained Zhevra. “Though you may have desired to teleport off-ship, perhaps to your Sister-Dame on Dzuerongvoe – to home – the Mind Tsunami force was not that powerful in you yet. The wave had just entered Rorroksueknea and hit all of us in the ship a few minutes just before we jumped.” The female’s heart sank. “Had we jumped any sooner, we might have missed it entirely. I only wish I had charged the jumpdrive sooner.” Then her tears flowed this time and she started crying. “I’m sorry, Gev!”
“Oh, Zhevra!” whined Gevaudan who renewed his grip. Though he was strong, his hug’s strength was of an augmented sixty-year old. The two cried in each other’s arms.
“Everyone thinks you are dead, Gevaudan Cannagrrh,” sobbed Zhevra. “But I remembered that night. Your HEV is orange. Your eyes are ocean blue. You had a plan. They’re calling it Gevaudan’s Jump, a suicidal jaunt into the nothingness beyond the jump field of the Sixth Horizon that night, a teleport into oblivion. I knew you were smarter than that. Teleportation works by different laws, I have learned. Runetha take you if you tried to commit suicide. Heroes don’t do that, husband.”
The male Gvegh shook with more shudders, “I could have killed everyone on the ship that night.”
“Don’t torture yourself,” interrupted Zhevra. Then her wilder nature made her realize that she was speaking to both him and her. “I’ve been doing the same to myself. Let the Empress in Black go, Gevaudan.”
“I’m damaged, wife,” warned the Pilot-Astrogator. A sadness weighed heavily across his face.
“So am I, husband,” answered Zhevra. “I forgive you. Unconditional love demands it.”
“How did you find me?”
Zhevra turned her husband and pointed at the Zhodani Mindsaber hanging on his far hip at the tattered gray-silver Teleporation Suit’s remains. “Did you hear a gunshot or an unidentifiable noise?”
“I thought it was the Empress and went for it,” answered Gevaudan.
Zhevra smiled and said, “I had the SIM sensors active when you did, and your blade’s energy registered on them.”
“The Spatial Inferred Neutrino sensor?” asked the surprised Scout-Courier. “You have the ship here?”
“Just half a mile back along the coast,” pointed Zhevra. “Let’s get you aboard, dressed and fed.”
Gevaudan let the Suedzuk guide him back toward the waiting ship. When she again spotted sand rut, she said, “You’ve got to tell me everything that happened. Like, why were you fishing from the shore when you could use your boat or raft?”
The white male stopped. “Zhevra, I don’t have a boat.” Then he saw the rut trench in the sand.
“Then what made that, love?” asked Zhevra pointing to the long, straight drag rut in the sand.
The Suedzuk Vargr felt the spike in the fields from the bushes, just before she heard the report of a shotgun. By pure reflex born of practiced Suedzuk Awareness, she sprang with her good, right leg to the side. Her husband was not Suedzuk and took half the scattering pattern to his chest and fell back.
“Gev!” screamed Zhevra as she saw him go down. In a roll, her right claw snatched up her pistol. The bandolier strap for the shotgun-grenade launcher had snapped and was left to the sand. Though she could see the elderly Vargr sprawled on the sand in her peripheral vision, her eyes tracked where she had felt the fields. In the foliage were hidden Vargr and Human aura-fields.
“He won’t be telling you anything more, Zhevra Cannagrrh!” said the Oruelaen spy, the pervert from the brothel she had shot at the Highport over Aengvoung months ago.
“Gevaudan Cannagrrh is under arrest by the Tavrchedl’ for possession of controlled knowledge and forbidden data,” said the Zhodani Psion from the market of Rorroksueknea. “You must be safely purged of this and rehabilitated.”
The Prole henchmen were advancing through the foliage under the canopy of wide-leaf palms. Zhevra pulled up her psi-shield cowl to cover her cranium.
“Death first!” screamed Zhevra Cannagrrh. She felt the heightened Mag and Lek of the four Human Proles charging her. With a bounce in her right leg, the left one still tremoring and untrustworthy, Zhevra skipped again to her right and dodged the electromagnetic discharges of energy stun pistols which kicked up sand in small geysers. If a single blast had struck her, Zhevra knew her sensitivity, the Awareness drawback and weakness to EM stunners; she would be numb on the beach in a heap of herself.
The training aboard the Sixth Horizon paid off as Zhevra felt the Proles’ position though her eyes could only see them disturbing the thick underbrush. To her Awareness, the Zhodani Human fields were potent and tangible even through the hum of the plants’ lower life fields. Bouncing repeatedly to her right, the Vargr female fired at each skip, “I warned you!”
The hollowpoints of her pistol struck the heads of her stunning assailants. Each of the three shots dropped a Prole without so much as a scream. They were without head protection of a helmet though they may have worn armored vests. Zhevra as a Suedzuk, preferred head shots over center mass, another reason for the hatred of her kind, the Blood Vargr. It was why she scored so well in the ship’s simulations. The fourth Prole dropped to prone and froze.
From the corner of her view, Zhevra thought she could see Gevaudan’s white and sandy form rise. He was alive! With the knowledge that the Tavrchedl’ and the Oruelaen had not killed her husband, Zhevra had Gevaudan to fight for. Her love spurred her into a Suedzuk dance, Zhevra’s dance.
A cloud of sand was left by where her husband had been standing. Only then did Zhevra understand what he had been doing on the ground for the six seconds she had taken in killing three Zhodani. His fields had been on a buildup to a jaunt.
Gevaudan Cannagrrh, Pilot and Astrogator, must have in his three years of exile to this island, been everywhere here. Zhevra guessed he knew the topography like the back of his claw. His ‘sniffer’ or olfactory synesthesia had told him where his enemies were crouched and hidden as he lay catching his breath. Then she remembered that the old Courier-Slaver was still augmented with subdermal armor. At the declaration of arresting her husband, the Oruelaen must have used subduing shotgun ammunition, riot rounds. It might bloody the Gvegh cyborg but couldn’t injure Gevaudan because of it. And now the aged Vargr was on the hunt.
Zhevra danced around a tall and thick palm just as the fourth Prole shot again with his stunner pistol. The blast slammed into the tree and she could feel its energies dissipated over the bark of the trunk. Spinning without breaking stride, the Suedzuk emerged from the other side of the thick wood and fired her pistol.
With a resonant thwack sound, the Prole fell dead with a bullet hole in the forehead above his left eye.
“Damned whore!” yelled the Oruelaen Vargr. But his field of Lek spiked, telegraphing his desire to pull the trigger of the shotgun. Zhevra reversed her spin and fell to a rolling tumble back behind the sheltering tree trunk. Heavier shot ripped open the bark where she had been less than a second earlier. The Thirz spy tried to fire a second time to keep Zhevra pinned behind the tree, but his weapon jammed and was too hot to touch and clear the ejection port. He threw down the weapon and advanced with his claws.
The Suedzuk reached around the tree with her weapon claw. By Awareness alone she felt for his aura-fields of Mag and Lek and pulled the trigger without looking. The weapon’s slide clacked open; the ammunition depleted. Infighting then, said her primal Wildside.
Zhevra saw from her vantage of the thick tree that Gevaudan and the Zhodani Psion were dueling with Zhodani Mindsabers in a psi-energy blade melee. The white Vargr was older and held in two claws his sighing blade emanating its intensely palpable EM field high and ready to strike. The Tavrchedl’ seemingly trained at such weapons, but still healing from bullet wounds she inflicted on him back on Rorroksueknea, held his Mindsaber out like a fencing weapon, light and one-handed. They were seemingly even matched. It was in that second of side view, that Zhevra beheld whirling and whipsering weapons of the Psions remaining after the passing of the Empress Wave. Each maddened and somehow in a dance of their own, the duelists were beautiful to behold.
“Oh, Zhevra!” whined Gevaudan who renewed his grip. Though he was strong, his hug’s strength was of an augmented sixty-year old. The two cried in each other’s arms.
“Everyone thinks you are dead, Gevaudan Cannagrrh,” sobbed Zhevra. “But I remembered that night. Your HEV is orange. Your eyes are ocean blue. You had a plan. They’re calling it Gevaudan’s Jump, a suicidal jaunt into the nothingness beyond the jump field of the Sixth Horizon that night, a teleport into oblivion. I knew you were smarter than that. Teleportation works by different laws, I have learned. Runetha take you if you tried to commit suicide. Heroes don’t do that, husband.”
The male Gvegh shook with more shudders, “I could have killed everyone on the ship that night.”
“Don’t torture yourself,” interrupted Zhevra. Then her wilder nature made her realize that she was speaking to both him and her. “I’ve been doing the same to myself. Let the Empress in Black go, Gevaudan.”
“I’m damaged, wife,” warned the Pilot-Astrogator. A sadness weighed heavily across his face.
“So am I, husband,” answered Zhevra. “I forgive you. Unconditional love demands it.”
“How did you find me?”
Zhevra turned her husband and pointed at the Zhodani Mindsaber hanging on his far hip at the tattered gray-silver Teleporation Suit’s remains. “Did you hear a gunshot or an unidentifiable noise?”
“I thought it was the Empress and went for it,” answered Gevaudan.
Zhevra smiled and said, “I had the SIM sensors active when you did, and your blade’s energy registered on them.”
“The Spatial Inferred Neutrino sensor?” asked the surprised Scout-Courier. “You have the ship here?”
“Just half a mile back along the coast,” pointed Zhevra. “Let’s get you aboard, dressed and fed.”
Gevaudan let the Suedzuk guide him back toward the waiting ship. When she again spotted sand rut, she said, “You’ve got to tell me everything that happened. Like, why were you fishing from the shore when you could use your boat or raft?”
The white male stopped. “Zhevra, I don’t have a boat.” Then he saw the rut trench in the sand.
“Then what made that, love?” asked Zhevra pointing to the long, straight drag rut in the sand.
The Suedzuk Vargr felt the spike in the fields from the bushes, just before she heard the report of a shotgun. By pure reflex born of practiced Suedzuk Awareness, she sprang with her good, right leg to the side. Her husband was not Suedzuk and took half the scattering pattern to his chest and fell back.
“Gev!” screamed Zhevra as she saw him go down. In a roll, her right claw snatched up her pistol. The bandolier strap for the shotgun-grenade launcher had snapped and was left to the sand. Though she could see the elderly Vargr sprawled on the sand in her peripheral vision, her eyes tracked where she had felt the fields. In the foliage were hidden Vargr and Human aura-fields.
“He won’t be telling you anything more, Zhevra Cannagrrh!” said the Oruelaen spy, the pervert from the brothel she had shot at the Highport over Aengvoung months ago.
“Gevaudan Cannagrrh is under arrest by the Tavrchedl’ for possession of controlled knowledge and forbidden data,” said the Zhodani Psion from the market of Rorroksueknea. “You must be safely purged of this and rehabilitated.”
The Prole henchmen were advancing through the foliage under the canopy of wide-leaf palms. Zhevra pulled up her psi-shield cowl to cover her cranium.
“Death first!” screamed Zhevra Cannagrrh. She felt the heightened Mag and Lek of the four Human Proles charging her. With a bounce in her right leg, the left one still tremoring and untrustworthy, Zhevra skipped again to her right and dodged the electromagnetic discharges of energy stun pistols which kicked up sand in small geysers. If a single blast had struck her, Zhevra knew her sensitivity, the Awareness drawback and weakness to EM stunners; she would be numb on the beach in a heap of herself.
The training aboard the Sixth Horizon paid off as Zhevra felt the Proles’ position though her eyes could only see them disturbing the thick underbrush. To her Awareness, the Zhodani Human fields were potent and tangible even through the hum of the plants’ lower life fields. Bouncing repeatedly to her right, the Vargr female fired at each skip, “I warned you!”
The hollowpoints of her pistol struck the heads of her stunning assailants. Each of the three shots dropped a Prole without so much as a scream. They were without head protection of a helmet though they may have worn armored vests. Zhevra as a Suedzuk, preferred head shots over center mass, another reason for the hatred of her kind, the Blood Vargr. It was why she scored so well in the ship’s simulations. The fourth Prole dropped to prone and froze.
From the corner of her view, Zhevra thought she could see Gevaudan’s white and sandy form rise. He was alive! With the knowledge that the Tavrchedl’ and the Oruelaen had not killed her husband, Zhevra had Gevaudan to fight for. Her love spurred her into a Suedzuk dance, Zhevra’s dance.
A cloud of sand was left by where her husband had been standing. Only then did Zhevra understand what he had been doing on the ground for the six seconds she had taken in killing three Zhodani. His fields had been on a buildup to a jaunt.
Gevaudan Cannagrrh, Pilot and Astrogator, must have in his three years of exile to this island, been everywhere here. Zhevra guessed he knew the topography like the back of his claw. His ‘sniffer’ or olfactory synesthesia had told him where his enemies were crouched and hidden as he lay catching his breath. Then she remembered that the old Courier-Slaver was still augmented with subdermal armor. At the declaration of arresting her husband, the Oruelaen must have used subduing shotgun ammunition, riot rounds. It might bloody the Gvegh cyborg but couldn’t injure Gevaudan because of it. And now the aged Vargr was on the hunt.
Zhevra danced around a tall and thick palm just as the fourth Prole shot again with his stunner pistol. The blast slammed into the tree and she could feel its energies dissipated over the bark of the trunk. Spinning without breaking stride, the Suedzuk emerged from the other side of the thick wood and fired her pistol.
With a resonant thwack sound, the Prole fell dead with a bullet hole in the forehead above his left eye.
“Damned whore!” yelled the Oruelaen Vargr. But his field of Lek spiked, telegraphing his desire to pull the trigger of the shotgun. Zhevra reversed her spin and fell to a rolling tumble back behind the sheltering tree trunk. Heavier shot ripped open the bark where she had been less than a second earlier. The Thirz spy tried to fire a second time to keep Zhevra pinned behind the tree, but his weapon jammed and was too hot to touch and clear the ejection port. He threw down the weapon and advanced with his claws.
The Suedzuk reached around the tree with her weapon claw. By Awareness alone she felt for his aura-fields of Mag and Lek and pulled the trigger without looking. The weapon’s slide clacked open; the ammunition depleted. Infighting then, said her primal Wildside.
Zhevra saw from her vantage of the thick tree that Gevaudan and the Zhodani Psion were dueling with Zhodani Mindsabers in a psi-energy blade melee. The white Vargr was older and held in two claws his sighing blade emanating its intensely palpable EM field high and ready to strike. The Tavrchedl’ seemingly trained at such weapons, but still healing from bullet wounds she inflicted on him back on Rorroksueknea, held his Mindsaber out like a fencing weapon, light and one-handed. They were seemingly even matched. It was in that second of side view, that Zhevra beheld whirling and whipsering weapons of the Psions remaining after the passing of the Empress Wave. Each maddened and somehow in a dance of their own, the duelists were beautiful to behold.
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