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Zhevra's Dance Novel

As the eminent jump precipitation warning was announced by the ship’s computer sounded, Zhevra dressed again in the vaccsuit she had used in Knall system. “Horizon, we will be running on minimal power consumption during HEPlaR burn and in-system transit. Acknoweldge.”

“Acknowledged,” said the ship’s computer over the cabin terminal.

From the bridge, Zhevra done up in her vacccsuit watched Vincent work. She sat in the helm’s Pilot acceleration chair as the robot calculated the ship’s precipitation point as the jump field bubble dissolved, dumping the Sixth Horizon back into real space. The viewports were again opened to the black and stars of empty space.

“At three gees of HEPlaR thrust burns,” announced Vincent, “we should reach turnover for deceleration in six hours, twelve to arrive at the coordinates you provided.”

Zhevra decided to continue her cautious pattern, “I will don my vaccsuit fully so we can rig for minimal power usage. The maneuver drives are already Red-lighting as useless in empty space. I figure the solar panels, once deployed, will give us a small boost in available power. There’s nothing out here. If we shut down life support to all but areas that I need, I’ll make due in this suit. I know we’re on fumes, so let us be precise in our burns.”

“Acknowledged,” said Vincent and the ship’s computer simultaneously.

The creep across this region of space was empty and featureless. There was no solar body locally and no planets or belts. It was free space and too far away for the curious to come looking for Zhevra and the Sixth Horizon. Yet, she had just committed a serious infraction of Regency Quarantine Law by delving this deeply into their space without the bureaucracy of the Regency Quarantine Service giving her permission to continue from the border to her destination world. Many ships that tried to run the Line were attacked first and then questioned later. Such was the threat of the Virus era though vampire fleets and singular vampire ships were becoming rarer and far between in the 1180s and into this year. One infection could spread to the entire Regency from a single breach. In this, the RQS took no chances and was granted authority to deputize any capable vessel they felt they needed as a situation arose. Zhevra was in hot water if she was discovered. Her plan relied on being so deep into Regency that she hoped that it would be assumed that her ship had passed RQS vetting already to have made thus far, a deception relying on assumption.

With a single, lengthy burst of re-combusted plasma, the ship pushed at three gees of acceleration for six hours. In that time Zhevra reclined her acceleration chair and tried to nap in her vaccsuit enclosure as Vincent monitored passive sensors and Bob watched the Engineering boards behind her. With the calibration point still out of sensor range, she could not confirm the presence of the refuel depot. It was nerve-wracking for her to try and nap on the slim hope of fuel on the other end of the deceleration burn which would deplete the available fuel remaining. But sleep did come and she woke once during the turnaround.

The ship reversed its vector according to the flight plan. Zhevra watched as the Maneuver software inverted the ship to face away from its destination for the second burn. Her stomach sank as she heard the HEPlaR engines ignite and begin six new hours of deceleration. Still enclosed in her suit, Zhevra deactivated the intercoms and repeated her personal mantra, Gevaudan’s eyes are ocean blue. His HEV is orange. He had a plan that night. Eventually the mantra made her thirsty and hungry. At three gees of deceleration burn, Zhevra could only drink from sealable straws and eat pre-wrapped protein bars Bob brought to her. As soon as she was done, her vaccsuit’s helmet was again sealed and the ship’s bridge returned to minimal life support to conserve power.

Zhevra woke from a short nap to Vincent’s robotic arm shaking her awake. She had forgotten to reactivate her suit’s intercoms. She opened her eyes to feel the ship no longer decelerating. Vincent was pointing at the viewports and jostling her awake. She followed the robot’s free hand and looked outside.

Outside the ship was a darkened, black superstructure of adjoined cubes and oblong tanks. The cube modules still had their shipping impact protection corners attached and looked to be barely out of the package from their original placement early in the Fifth Frontier War. There were no lights though many wide solar panels lined the outside of the cubes. If there was power, was the depot on standby after all this time? With the huge mass of the superstructure immediately outside and dwarfing the Fast Far Scout, the maneuver drives and floaters were able to limp the empty vessel to a docking ring and engage magnetics to mate with the berth.

“We don’t have forever since that Corsair likely saw and calculated our jump vector before leaving it in our lanthanum dust,” said Zhevra to the robots and the ship. “Bob, Vincent, with me to conduct a refueling op. I doubt anyone is here but watch for defenses anyhow. This was a wartime installation and there may still be passive emplacements. I’ll arm myself and ask Bob to carry Gev’s rocket launcher from the ship’s locker.

“I am not programmed for weapons use, ma’am,” protested Bob.

“It’s okay. I’ll do it if the need arises,” reassured Zhevra.

The Vargr and the two Vargr-shaped robots exited the Sixth Horizon through the cycled airlock to the tunnel docking gantry and berth. Again, with torch beams and stealth, the three made way through the cold, darkened tunnels and modules of the depot. There were no lights, and everything was painted a flat black to minimize reflectivity so as to make detection by visual scopes and other sensors difficult. The entire station was coated in the stealthy paint. Many structures and furniture were similarly painted. But as the trio made way to the cubes adjacent to the oblong tanks, Zhevra saw signs of heraldry. The red circle field and canine fangs of the Dzen Aeng Kho were present on doors and at workstations. Though the station was stealthy, there was still the presence of polity charisma in the face of wartime operations.

Feeling better about being in familiar territory, Zhevra breathed easier. The only thing stopping her now was any mechanical failures. Power failures could be dealt with if needed. As an engineer, the Suedzuk could always reroute remaining solar power from the ship, through the station and empower pumps. But as a backup, mechanical pumps were standard issue on depot installations such as this one. The last unknown was whether or not the calibration point still had fuel to give to her. Everything in the station still looked new though dormant with decades of age since the years of 1107 to 1110, the Fifth Frontier War. This told the female Vargr that the station had not seen battle or discovery. Erected hastily, the modules for living quarters had never been brought online and thus as the trio passed those areas, Zhevra could see that there would be no means for resupplying food or water. Everywhere she looked, the red-furred female could see signs of hasty construction. Safety was not the highest priority in the depot’s wartime construction fitting. Yet the entire superstructure made no noises or seem lacking in integrity.
 
Without power, the doors had to be hand-cranked with a manual crank next to each. Zhevra and the robots continued silently, utilizing gestures and nods or shakes of the head to communicate. There was no active life support and the minimal atmosphere was likely to freeze the lungs if she were to crack her vaccsuit. Past operations departments, crew modules, engineering modules for power plants never brought online and beyond the last of the starship berth gantries, Zhevra found the modules connected to the tanks she had seen ouside upon docking.

Zhevra had to brush the frost rime from the gauges to the tanks. Reading them, she let out a prayer of thanks to Runetha Saetedz. Only one of the twelve massive tanks were empty. There was fuel for a hundred Fast Far Scouts like the Sixth Horizon. She could have refueled coming and going many, many times over. Shaking with eustress, relieved happiness, in her trust in Gevaudan Cannagrrh’s recorded date on the ‘Gator laptop; the Suedzuk made gestures to Vincent and Bob, encouraging them to begin refueling operations. The two robots nodded their brushed nickel heads and red visual sensor eyes.

Over the course of thirty minutes of connecting lines from the tanks to the lines out to their ship’s berth, Vincent connected the intake line to the Sixth Horizon while Bob began pumping manually fuel from #11 tank down to each line junction in precaution of leaks or damaged lines. Zhevra took the time to tour the depot superstructure. Toting the one-shot rocket launcher, the female Vargr moved through the empty calibration point like a ghost in a ghost town. There was nothing of comfort present. All furniture, crew stations, desks and operations machines were still in a state of dormancy. She guessed that at one time, during the War, that the station had been active. But then after #12 tank had been depleted, the depot had not been visited since.

Zhevra remembered her husband stating that the Society of Equals had contributed minimally to the Outworld Coalition during the Fifth Frontier War and did not expect great returns if the Zhodani, Sword Worlders and the various Vargr elements were successful in their efforts. Gevaudan had not been proud of admitting his home polity’s involvement but did take into account the charisma such contribution must have earned the Dzen Aeng Kho. Gevaudan Cannagrrh and his Sister-Dame Qithka had not personally taken part in the War as they were already present in the Spinward Marches when the declaration of war had been given to the Third Imperium back then.

Having nothing further to interest Zhevra Cannagrrh, a Suedzuk, she left the depot and returned to the Sixth Horizon to monitor the increasing fuel intake and tanks status as the refueling operation commenced in earnest.
 
XXIX. Regina (Spinward Marches 1910) A788899-C, Shionthy (Spinward Marches 2306) C000742-8 of Zhevra’s testimony
Zhevra Cannagrrh took the precaution to delete the jump path log concerning Spinward Marches parsec 2203 from the ship’s computer. The only record of the hidden and long-forgotten calibration point remained in Gevaudan’s Astrogation laptop computer, the ‘Gator, and in her head. She considered asking Bob and Vincent to delete their memories of the refuel operation, but then decided against it. Somehow, in some Vargr way, it felt an affront to the pseudo-charisma of the twin robots for Zhevra to ask for such.

Pushing off from the darkened depot with the maneuver drives and lifters, the Sixth Horizon was once again under way, vectored off to a safely distant jump point one-hundred diameters from the facility. It was not long, an hour or so on minimal thrust on the HEPlaR drive to reach it. In that time, Zhevra had computed the next jump to Shionthy (Spinward Marches 2306). She chose Shionthy as many of the mainline worlds of the Regency featured the fast, Express Boat, or X-boat, messaging services that connected the systems of Regency together and could easily report on Zhevra’s ship if she was detected.

Shionthy was not part of the X-boat network and was interdicted with a Red Zone classification, a Human and Regency designator for systems that were deemed dangerous to visit in some way or another. From Shionthy’s gas giants, Zhevra intended to refuel and then jump to Yurst (Spinward Marches 2309), another out of the way world with minimal interest value. This route was intended to decrease the chance of encountering any military ships, especially the bigger, capital ships that could destroy the Fast Far Scout instantly with a single salvo of weapons fire. She did not intend to be given any attention until the final jump from Yurst to Regina (Spinward Marches 1910) and by then, the ship might be assumed to have past the Regency Quarantine Line’s vetting process.

That night, Zhevra suffered a nightmare while the ship was in its first 24 hours of jump transit. As the L-hyd broiled outside the ship, Zhevra tossed and wrestled in her dreams to hold onto her husband who was slick with the quicksilver slime of the jumpspace bubble engulfing him and causing him to slip from her grasp. As Gevaudan became fully enveloped by the opaque and reflective barrier, Zhevra screamed herself awake. She shook for mintues before exercises warmed her muscles and motor nerve functions anew.

* * *

An alarm on Allain Templeton’s chronometer watch beeped for attention. Silencing it, he looked to Zhevra and interrupted saying, “We’re out of time for today. Tomorrow we teleconference to the courts from here, Ms. Cannagrrh. The arraignment, remember?”

Zhevra nodded but said nothing. Being a Splinters Vargr, she didn’t believe in the system of justice here on Regina. The local government had nothing to lose in denying her rights or a fair trial. It was too easy to just squash her case, deliver a quick sentence and satisfy the powers that be in that the safety of Regency was assured once more against Virus infection. It was one small life for billions’ security. The musing earned her another affirmative shrugging robe adjustment from the Psion in the corner. Khzaeng was first out the cell door as Zhevra was ordered to the back wall once more.

Alone again, the prisoner laid down and considered her last few days before an uncaring court system rid itself of quite possibly the last Suedzuk in the region. She dreamed of Gevaudan that night. He looked torn between leaving Zhevra to melt into the quicksilver of jumpspace and staying with her and watching her die from some unknown form of execution. The pain her heart felt jolted her awake in the night. Shaking with tremors, Zhevra sat up remainder of the night.

Sunrise was heralded by the arrival of the guards to a weary Zhevra’s cell. With mixed relief and dread, she was relieved of the collar, manacles and chains tethering her to the back wall. Obviously, since she would be in front of a camera, Zhevra would be made out with a best face and charisma forward to the judge of the case, the prosecutor and with Allain Templeton, her advocate beside her.

A quick and lonely breakfast of a wrapped protein bar and water was allotted Zhevra. Allain had yet to arrive as the sun rose. Zhevra doubted that Psion Khzaeng would attend the arraignment. But the advocate came alone and pushed a rolling cart with audio-visual, teleconferencing equipment to her cell. Again, she was ordered to the back of her cell as Templeton rolled in the gear and handed an extension cord to the guards for electricity. With Guard Crow, two other female guards and Allain Templeton present, Zhevra stood in her prison blues as the camera-microphone rig and monitor were activated and a connection call was received.
 
A Human judge with a Vargr court recorder were pictured in the monitor. The male Human wore a black robe that was embroidered with the sunburst and unicorn emblem of Regency. The male, Gvegh Vargr wore a formal suit fitted for his race and watched as the speech-to-text scrolled across his computer monitor.

The judge began the arraignment with, “The case of Regency Quarantine Service versus Zhevra Cannagrrh on charges of breach of the Quarantine Line interstellar felony, assault on a Zhodani resident, firefight with security forces on University of Regina campus grounds and espionage of University documents is to commence. Does the defendant have counseling?”

“She does, Your Honor,” answered Allain Templeton dressed in a formal suit of black and white. He stood next to Zhevra. “Registered Advocate Allain Templeton, Your Honor.”

“And is this one Zhevra Cannagrrh?” asked the judge on the monitor.

“She is, Your Honor.”

“Is the accused ready to stand trial?” asked the judge. The prosecuting advocate remained silent. She was a Regency Human of Solomani descent in a formal dress shirt and in a black skirt. A black ladies bow encircled her shirt collar.

“We are not complete in assembling the full defense and the details of this case, Your Honor,” reported Allain. “There are still some unknowns the defendant has yet to complete her testimony. The progress has been slower than normal.”

“Does the defense at least have a plea prepared?” asked the judge who looked impatient and worn with years of cases against aliens.

“We do, Your Honor,” answered the Human lawyer beside Zhevra.

“Let’s hear it then.”

“Your Honor, the defense would like to enter a plea of Guilty But Mentally Temporarily Insane,” declared Allain. He stood confident.

“You’ve got to be joking,” cut in the female prosecutor.

“Belay that, Ms, Talmadge,” ordered the judge. “Advocate Templeton, on what grounds is the GBMTI plea based?”

From the familiar file that he had been scribing Zhevra’s story, Allain Templeton produced a paper with both printed and shorthand writing on it. He began reading it aloud to the court over the connection, “Your Honor and the court, the defense submits certifiable via professional testimony the presence of the following but not limited to: ‘battered wife syndrome’, easily-triggered Post-traumatic Stress Disorder, hypervigilance symptoms, survivor’s guilt, sensation-seeking behaviors, actions befitting suicidal tendencies, paranoia – namely of Psions and telepathy in particular, suffering from others’ social and racial prejudice and discrimination, cataclysmic delusions and coma-induced complications marked by medical malpractice in the accused’s polity of the Dzen Aeng Kho, the so-called Society of Equals. I can provide bullet-point testimony and at least one witness to violent actions of such triggers, Your Honor. This is the reason for the requested video arraignment as the accused also suffered a non-standard arrest event protested on file of this case.”

Zhevra’s ears burned and flattened but she kept her eyes pointed at the cell’s floor. She wanted to bare her teeth and wag her tail in anger. Instead, she flexed her claws to vent her frustration.

“Your motion, advocate?” asked the judge who appeared used to such pleas and delays of the justice system.

Allain put down the paper and addressed the camera on the monitor, “We move to delay sentencing until the full extent of temporary insanity can be assessed and the full testimony of the accused be taken as the defense has yet to hear it in entirety.”

“Objection, Your Honor,” interrupted the prosecutor, Ms. Talmadge. “The court already has enough evidence, exhibits and security footage to bring this case to sentencing despite these claims that the accused cannot properly assist counsel in this trial.”

“Overruled,” said the judge, “on the grounds that this is an ethnic Vargr, not a Regency citizen in full knowledge of their rights and being of an ethnicity not fully-understood. Suedzuk, I believe, Mr. Templeton?”

“Yes, Your Honor,” answered Allain. “Frequently misnomer-ed as ‘Red Pelts’, Ms. Cannagrrh is oft-abused and malingered for nothing more than her coloration and origination. I beg the court to see reason that this must be delayed until a full account is heard and recorded. Such testimony will of course be made available to prosecution and the court.”

“Sustained,” said the judge who banged a gavel in the shape of a unicorn’s head on a plate shaped as a sunburst, the original symbol of the Regency meeting with the remnant Imperium. “Case to resume in two days. This arraignment is concluded until then. You are dismissed Mr. Templeton and Ms. Cannagrrh.”

Allain bowed at the hip formally as the connection was lost on the monitor.
 
With the guards outside the cell door, the Vilani-mix Crow among them, Zhevra lost her self-control. In a singular motion, she reached over to Allain, laid claws on his black suit and hip-tossed him over her waist and slammed him to the floor. The Infighting throw maneuver also swept a foot too in tripping any chance the male Human had in catching himself from the fall. As his body descended to the hard floor, Zhevra pounced her weight behind the fall, adding to the descent’s energy.

Allain’s body collided with the floor and took his wind out of his lungs. He groaned as Zhevra dug a free knee into his abdomen to further rob him of recovery. His legs caught on the bunk bed and did not make it to the ground.

“You bastard monkey!” exclaimed the enraged Zhevra. “You have just sent me to a mental ward for the rest of my life!” Behind the female Vargr, guards quickly worked to select the correct key for the cell door. They drew their batons in readying for the coming melee with a frenzying Vargr.

Allain refocused his eyes on her and managed to cough out, “It was the only way, Zh-.”

“Horseshit!” screamed the Suedzuk. Her tremors were shaking her tail and the leg she had swept Allain with. The cell door swung open and guards rushed her. Zhevra took baton blow after blow as she settled her salivating fangs over Allain’s throat. “Remember this!” she yelled in his ear though slightly muffled by the meat of the advocates neck. She never got to clamp down on his arteries as a nighstick struck the back of her head and sent her again into darkness.

Zhevra awoke an unknown time later. She had been returned to her familiar collar, manacles and chains. Still lying on the floor of her cell, she reached back to feel for broken bones. Soreness erupted in several locations across her waist, back, neck and head. Thankfully, none of her ribs were broken and so she lay there some time assessing whether she had the energy to climb upward into bed.

Allain Templeton was gone as was the teleconferencing equipment. The cellblock was empty except for her. In hindsight, Zhevra’s tremors had been beaten down for now as she whimpered in both self-pity and in pain as she reached for the bunk bed. What seemed a mountain climb later, the female Vargr attained the bed and cried herself to sleep. The Suedzuk might never get the chance to use what she had learned from the Circle of Mysteries Psychoportation Department in finding her husband.

1_Languishing.jpg
 
Zhevra waked to the sound of Allain’s raspy voice coming from outside her cell door. She growled at him standing there. The older crew of guards were present and yet a few steps away from the cell door.

“They would have killed you summarily, Zhevra,” Allain said sadly to her from outside the bars. “One life, as an example to the public, for billions.” The advocate coughed once but continued in his scratchy voice, “Now you live longer. It was the only way.”

“You call this living, Allain Templeton?” snarled Zhevra.

The fold-down table of the cell was angled outward beyond the bars and Allain sat down in a chair a guard had brought. With the Human was Psion Khzaeng. Zhevra locked her green eyes on the male Aekhu and thought at him, did you agree to this, Psion? But the male Vargr dressed today in his brown overcoat did not respond with his customary shrug.

Allain produced the file again and set up the recording device. “We will have to do this from out here from here on out, Zhevra,” he said as he took out his pen.

In her simmering growl, Zhevra continued her story. There was no breakfast though another wrapped protein bar and water came later. With hate in her heart, she spoke at Allain as if it were a personal grudge, a vendetta she was now proud of.

* * *

The Sixth Horizon completed its refueling skiming over the innermost of four gas giants in Shionthy’s planetary system. Then it was hailed by a flashing laser signal by the Regency Cruiser Rosenshrike. The ship’s computer mis-translated the name as “bloody butcherbird”. In patrol of the interdicted, Red Zone, system the Cruiser demanded to know the identity of the Far Scout.

Zhevra let the Rosenshrike taste silence as she pushed her ship toward Ragnarok Belt, the inner of two planetoid belts in the asteroid world’s system. The ship’s computer voiced a warning to Zhevra at the helm, “Warning, Library data indicates system interdiction on numerous accounts of contact with ambient contra-terrene matter, otherwise named anti-matter, in belt to fore of Fast Far Scout Sixth Horizon. Extreme caution advised.”

At seeing Zhevra gun the maneuver drive into Ragnarok Belt, the Rosenshrike, a cone-shaped Planet-class heavy cruiser studded with turrets gave chase.

“CTM, huh?” asked Zhevra rhetorically. “Vincent, watch the sensors and focus them forward. Look for shadow-gaps in readings. Those will be our nodes of anti-matter to dodge.”

“Acknowledged.”

“How do you know this, ma’am?” asked Bob who was watching the heat buildup in the in-system drives.

“My homeworld is Llotree and it reached near-Darrian levels of technology. One of the power plant breakthroughs was matter and anti-matter annihilation chambers. Though we never had much of a supply of CTM, the designs were there and prototypes were perfected but never implemented. In that time, the Enclave Famuurueroergoghz sent out many prospectors to search for source nodes of the stuff. With our technology, we were able to better recognize it though the Enclave was poor in the resource. If Vincent can watch for lack of radar and lidar reflections – the shadow-gaps – we can avoid collisions and the explosions. Believe me, the Enclave mining corps had their share.”

The next few hours of chase through the Ragnarok Belt involved weaving through the rocks of the belt and remaining vigilant for contra-terrene matter. Further into the inner system the small, Fast Far Scout took the Rosenshrike. Repeatedly the heavy cruiser signaled via its laser flasher warnings of the hazardous anti-matter. While the heavy cruiser could keep pace with the Sixth Horizon at the brutal six gees of acceleration, the military ship did not have the maneuverability to dodge asteroids and small remnant nodes of the contra-terrene matter. Rosenshrike guns fired repeatedly in hopes of clearing the rocks in its path. However, the CTM was not so easily detected and weapons had no effect on the nodes. The Regency Cruiser took hit after hit from both matter asteroids and brilliant energy releases as anti-matter collided with the armor of the pursuing ship.

“They are going to destroy themselves if they don’t give up,” warned Zhevra to nobody. “Engage autopilot, evasion and stealth if possible.” The ship’s intellect program took over the helm. Taking up her husband’s ‘Gator laptop, the Engineer began calculations for jump to Yurst.

“You are intending to jump soon, ma’am?” predicted Vincent with a question.
“Mmm-hmm,” said the female Suedzuk.

“We are still within one-hundred diameters of the belt and additionally the first gas giant. A jump inside that limit hinders safety protocols.”

“Aware of that Vincent,” said Zhevra, “Engineers know jumps better than Pilot-Astrogators and I am the best.”

The robot stared at the sophont. Zhevra continued tapping out a vector, taking into account the masses of Ragnarok Belt and the gas giant she had just finished skimming. And still the Rosenshrike maintained pursuit and flashed heave-to orders.

As she worked the calculations for the three-parsec jump, Zhevra said, “The problem with multi-person crews is that no one on the bridge listens to the Engineer. We know our equipment, our ship. We know more about what is safe and what can be risked than the idiots on the bridge who are too often in command. Then there is the opinions of the remainder crew and passengers and cargo values to consider risking. Through all that, engineers have to kow-tow to the command structure. Tonight, I’m going to show you a thing or two what Gevaudan would not have tried in his white-furred fantasies.”

When all the lights for the Astrogation board flashed Green, Zhevra got up and ran aft. “See you on the other side, boys!”

Over the intercom came Vincent’s repeated reports of shots fired to clear nearby asteroids. “The Rosenshrike is still closing though they are taking mounting damage to do so, ma’am.”

“They can’t know what I’m about until they are too late to do anything about it, guys,” called Zhevra over the intercom from the Engineering section.
Bob interrupted with, “As the ship’s Steward, I must protest this suicidal probability of destruction, ma’am. Would you like to further discuss this plan of action?”

“Thank you, Bob, but no.”

A shower of tiny rocks and dust played over the armor of the Sixth Horizon and the pelting of the ship sounded like rain on a metal house roof to Zhevra. The deck shook from the vibration of the strikes of larger stones. She listened to the ‘rain’ as she transferred power from the maneuver drive to charge the jumpdrive’s crystals.

“They can see we intend to jump, ma’am,” called Vincent. “Our hot-spot just moved from the maneuver drive to the jumpdrive. The Regency Cruiser can sense our jump charge.”

“Again, aware of that Vincent,” answered Zhevra. When the boards read a vibrant Yellow, warning of the dangerous hard jump, Zhevra announced, “Horizon, vector to pre-set jump.”

The ship answered at her board, “Ten seconds. Ten…nine…”

Zhevra counted along with the ship’s computer, “Jump transit in eight…seven…”

Vincent called as the two counted down, “Closing outer viewports. All hands prepare for jump.”

Zhevra spoke to the empty Engineering section, “Here’s something you navy guys won’t try. Too many worried heads. Jump transit in 5, 4, 3, 2, 1. Jumping.”
 
The ship jolted in its jump and Zhevra lost her footing and slid across the deck as the Fast Far Scout struggled to leave the universe while being pulled in the opposite direction by the gravity wells of Ragnarok Belt and the gas giant. If Zhevra had failed in her numbers, mis-tuned the jumpdrives, failed to compensate for fuel consumption and any number of other engineering factors, the ship would be stretched across the span of lightyears as its mass was splattered over the start and finishing points. Striking the back wall next to Gevaudan’s Atlas statue wet bar, Zhevra held her breath. Her fall lasted all of two seconds.

And she was still present on board the ship. “Status!” she yelled at the intercom.

“We have multiple Yellow lights, but we are confirmed in jump transit, ma’am,” reported Vincent.

“Estimated time of transit?” asked the Suedzuk as she got up from the deck.
“Unavailable, ma’am.”

“Well, did we misjump?”

“Negative,” checked Vincent. The robot took a second to look at the Astrogation board before saying, “We are on vectored course. The gravity wells have put variables in the transit time. Do you want a full calculation? It might take a day or more.”

“No, but I do want a wider warning of jump precitpitaiton,” answered Zhevra. “Stand down the bridge. I need an alcoholic beverage, Bob.”

The Sixth Horizon, as far as Zhevra Cannagrrh could tell, had left the Rosenshrike in a dangerous planetoid belt riddled with anti-matter and nursing moderate damage. She had performed a hard jump that most would call her suicidal for attempting. Yet, Gevaudan’s variant design had held for its small frame and displacement tonnage. This event, the hard jump, was why his kind were called Scouts, Explorers, and Couriers. Their vessels were meant to take such dangerous pathways. The Sixth Horizon was no different.

Dumping herself into the galley dining area, Zhevra was greeted by Bob who slid a sip-glass of atrake, a fruity alcoholic drink, across the table to her waiting claw. “Dinner will be a little late, ma’am. Please drink responsibly.”

* * *
 
XXX. Regina (Spinward Marches 1910) A788899-C
Allain Templeton lifted a piece of paper and read it off to Zhevra beyond the bars and in her cell. “The Rosenshrike reported fourteen asteroid strikes and four contra-terrene collisions. You have cost the Regency a significant amount of money, Zhevra.”

“At this point, Allain,” growled Zhevra who jerked her chain tether to its limit to punctuate her status, “I think the Regency can bill me for their captain’s foolishness in chasing me. I am the best Engineer I know of and now you let the court think me insane and suicidal. I hate you.”

Allain looked up from his seated position to his assistant, Khzaeng. The Psion said in deadpan, “She does hate you, Allain. For now. Were I you, I would exercise caution around her. She is unstable though I should not say so.”

“Damned right, Aekhu,” cut in Zhevra who could not reach the bars of her cell tethered as she was. “We jumped in to Yurst and from there came to Regina. You have the why, and how. I wanted to deliver the report, your University of Regina’s report, to its owners. In trade for the real, non-decoy, document, I was to get an audience with someone who could help me solve Gevaudan’s Jump.”

“But that did not happen as easily as you say,” interrupted Allain.

Baring her teeth, Zhevra continued her story by jumping to her arrival on Regina.

* * *

Zhevra Cannagrrh was permitted a Highport berth in orbit over the satellite world of Regina. The mainworld was called a satellite because it was a moon of Assiniboia and the most inhabitable of seven life-sustaining planetary bodies in the system. By day the gas giant was a haze through the blue sky, cutting its image into the daily backdrop of the capital of the subsector. By night Assiniboia’s reflected light off one of three stars, Lusor, granted a permanent ambient glow of several tens of moons’ light. With such permanent ambient light, cities such as Credo needed little public lighting after hours.

With the robots undergoing rigorous testing via hand canary devices that could indicate the presence of Virus infection in computers, robots, complex cybernetics and even simple storage devices, Zhevra had to allow the ship’s search and continue on her own. Using the Highport’s closed circuit Library terminal for a fee, the Suedzuk found the planetary campus of the University of Regina. She had to compare heraldry of the report in her purse to the crests of three collegiate emblems since Regina featured more than one University. For an additional fee she was permitted to place a call dirtside and set up an appointment with the Dean of Sociology. Asking for Mikirshu Gimudin, the Dean of Sociology earned her seconds of silence.

“I am sorry, ma’am, but that person is no longer with us,” said the University secretary, a Human by her voice and vocal anatomy, “he died some decades ago due to illness. Would you like me to patch you into the current Dean?”

“Yes, please,” said Zhevra.

A male, Human voice greeted Zhevra and agreed to an after hours meeting at her request. Thirty minutes later, Zhevra was aboard a shuttle to take her down to the University Island and its campus. The entire island sprouted conifer trees and was barely punctuated by buildings. As the shuttle descended through the clouds, Zhevra could see the landing field that ringed the shore of the island. Inland were located the campus halls of learning, the University of Regina.

At the local time, it was later in the evening with Assiniboia being the only light in the sky other than stars. Clouds were pushed on the horizon behind the treeline of pines. Zhevra rode an automated tram from the field, several stops until she read the sign for the Sociology Department Buildings.

In the distance at the foot of a half-flight of steps to a building stood a Human man. Zhevra approached him.

“Zhevra Canna-?” asked the Human male.

“Cannagrrh, sir,” corrected Zhevra.

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” apologized the man. “I don’t speak Gvegh.”

“Fine,” said the Suedzuk, “I speak passable Galanglic.”

The man was dressed in a college jacket, wore a pair of glasses and his hair was slightly blown in the evening island winds through the pines. At this range, Zhevra felt his fields and watched his stance.

“Welcome, Ms. Cannagrrh. I am Doctor Karl Vegeus, Dean of Sociology here.” His fields leaped with Lek. Zhevra caught the charge in the man’s aura. Any lie in a statement made the entire sentence a falsehood. “Would you like show me what you brought?” Another failure on his part, thought the Suedzuk.

“Who said I brought you anything?” asked Zhevra. Clutching her purse closer to her torso, she angled her thigh holster away from the man in the jacket.

“You mentioned Mikirshu Gimudin who was conducting illegal research operations in the name of the University. Give me the report.”

“Like hell,” growled Zhevra. The man’s fields were increasing in both Mag and Lek now. “You’re a liar.”

“How did you-?” the man said but was cut off by Zhevra running from him with the speed of the Vargr race. She sprinted to the forested pines. “Come back!” Then he ran after her and huffing, spoke into a comm at his wrist, “She’s headed into the woods, team. Take her down.”

Zhevra dashed behind a bigger tree trunk and hid. From her web belt, she extracted the silencer once more to screw it into the end of her pistol. Then she breathed carefully as she listened for the lying man.

“Spread out and search all the bushes and trees,” called the man. “She’s around here somewhere, a red and white pelt. Watch it though. She’s armed.”

Fields of other people at the edge of Zhevra’s Awareness began picking their way through the bushes and tree trunks as they searched for her. Zhevra removed the report folder from her lady’s bag and darted once from her hiding place.

“Go to infra-red!” called another person, a male Human.

As she passed in a run by a low tree branch, Zhevra left her purse to swing from it. The movement kept it swinging. Two trees later, she crouched low behind a thick pine trunk.

“Movement!” called a third person, a male Vargr, possibly an Aekhu.

Through the trees, Zhevra saw by the reflected light of Assinboia four heavily armored forms, three Humans and the Vargr. They were wearing military grade battle-dress, the kind that took hits from her pistol and laughed at the ricocheting bullets. But due to their armor, the searchers moved slower and they took time in covering their ground. Zhevra crouched low to the ground and took aim back in the general direction of her swinging purse.

“Here. Her purse,” called the man in the lead.
 
Rather than harm the armored man, Zhevra focused her Awareness on his armor. Heavy units like this one required power to move and such power required electromagnetics. As the lead male reached out for the purse, his torso turned slightly to expose the back to Zhevra. To her, the field stretching about the armor put a target on the power cell of the armor. With her pistol still loaded with armor-piercing rounds, under the weeks of tutelage of the Sixth Horizon training program, Zhevra took the shot. The silenced pistol hissed once.

The bullet penetrated the power cell and the entire suit of armor lost the ability to function. Being less than top-tier equipment, the battle-dress fell dormant and dumped the trapped man prone on the ground. From inside the muffled helmet of the man she had shot came the cry, “Shit! I’m hit.” Yet since his entire armored suit was now dormant and too heavy to move by muscle mass alone, the man was trapped until he could be released by a second.

“Tully!” came the second suit of battle-dress to approach the hanging purse and the prone man before it. This one was more cautious, perhaps wary of a trap on the lady’s bag. He circled the hanging accessory and around the barely-wriggling man in the disabled armor. Because he circled widely about the two, this foe too exposed his backside to Zhevra’s position. Her pistol hissed again, the bullet striking ripping both power cell and lines to the battle-dress. The second suit crouched low to a resting crouch as its power failed.

“Sarge!” exclaimed the Vargr in the third battle-dress. Zhevra darted from one tree to the next to get a different angle on the arriving Aekhu. She could hear his accent and the male dropped into his home language of Aekhu. As the Vargr crouched to check on the downed first man, Zhevra took aim again.

The Suedzuk’s shot was answered this time as her weapon hissed to tear into the Vargr’s power cell. But the fourth enemy, a Human had seen her dash. The infra-red optics in such suits could see her heat. A shotgun blast that Zhevra felt telegraphed by the man’s aura warned her of the danger a fraction of a second before the report of the shot. Zhevra had already pulled the trigger and jumped. Down went the Aekhu Vargr in similar power loss. However, her leg was grazed at the thigh by the shotgun of the fourth. Pain stung her thigh. From behind the tree trunk, Zhevra thumbed her laser sight on the pistol. Her leg was bleeding but not badly enough to surrender to the suited enemies.

The sliding action of the pump shotgun of the last armored Human was heard. She imagined that the action required both hands to perform. She leaned out from behind the tree with her pistol arm leveled at the armor. His shotgun was coming level to fire again. Rather than the protected power cell of the armor, Zhevra put the red dot of her laser sight on the barrel of the shotgun. Just before it came level enough for him to destroy her wooden cover, Zhevra’s pistol hissed again. The armor-piercing round slid up the wide gauge shotgun barrel and destroyed the shell, lit off the accelerant in the casing and destroyed the weapon as it fired itself. Lodged in the early portion of the barrel, the blast was contained in at its starting point, ripping the shotgun from the man’s armored gauntlet. The backblast threw the man’s weapon arm back and he spun around to regain his balance. The Suedzuk saw her next shot and deactivated the power of the fourth battle-dress with an Aware and aimed shot. Armor shut down and the man never regained his footing as he spun to supine, his back to the ground.

Running from the downed armors, Zhevra heard campus police on vehicles converging on the report of the shotgun. Dashing past her hanging purse, Zhevra surprised the liar from earlier. In an Infighting spring, Zhevra came up from under a tackling grasp of the false Doctor and laid him flat on his back with a pistol but to his forehead. Without breaking stride, the Suedzuk ‘felt’ his fields collapse into unconsciousness as she ran.

There were beams of light in the trees where she had been when Zhevra climbed the steps of the Sociology building and entered. Quickly padding down the halls, she eventually found the Dean’s office on the ground floor. Knocking furiously as she noted the office lamplight under the door, Zhevra called from her side, “Please, I need to see the Dean!”

The door opened three, long seconds later. Before Zhevra stood a tall, female Aslan, the leonine felinoid race. She was dressed in a university jacket that featured the same crest as the one on the report. Her short, golden fur was uniform over her face neck and exposed, four-digit claws. Zhevra was confused for a second as sirens outside drove by the Sociology building. The Suedzuk thought her jaw dropped to the floor such was her canine muzzle hanging open.

The sleek-furred female Aslan looked down from her height at Zhevra, a female Vargr panting and cradling a folder belonging to the University. The silenced pistol in her right claw did not help Zhevra’s initial impression. The slitted pupils in the yellow orbs of the Aslan looked past the red-furred Zhevra and scanned the hallways. A toothy smirk rose in the Aslan’s face. Zhevra’s felt the Mag of the Aslan jump and the Lek drop.

“Get in,” said the Aslan female. Zhevra complied quickly to allow her to shut and lock the door. “Cut off the light, Vargr. We’re not here, understand?”

The tall female’s long dewclaws slipped through her wrists and protruded a few inches like mounted daggers from the palm of her claws. It was a natural weapon of the Major Race of Aslan and as Vargr trained in Infighting, the feline race utilized their own style of natural weaponry.

Zhevra found the desk light and switched off the office lamp. The office was in darkness though Zhevra could still feel exactly where the Aslan stood. The hallway echoed with tromping boots of security guards sweeping the building and checking doors. When the Dean’s office was tried, the Aslan female took a battle stance that still towered over the Suedzuk. A couple of guards trying the locked door handle was all it took for the team to pass onward. Zhevra found she had been holding her breath. The fields of the security team were palpable but muted from behind the door. Then they passed into the distance and out of her Awareness.
 
Both the females sighed in relief, Zhevra fighting off tears and the Aslan sinking into a rumbling purr. When the security teams left the Sociology Department building, the taller female spoke. “I thought my comm was being tapped on keywords when I stopped getting calls tonight,” she said. “I hope you don’t mind that I am not a Human. I’m Doctor Hyeilowyueh, Dean of Sociology here at the University of Regina, but you can shorten it to Dr. Hyeil, Miss-?” The female spoke excellent Galanglic though her shorter muzzle gave her an anatomical lisp and the purr behind her voice was hypnotic.

“My name is Zhevra Cannagrrh,” Zhevra announced herself. “I am in need of helpful information in trade for this. It’s legit and the last of its kind, Dr. Hyeil.” Zhevra held out the folder in the window light of Assiniboia, the ever-present gas giant over Regina. She brutalized the name but Aslan names were alien to Zhevra and she did not speak the Aslan tongue. Zhevra did know to speak softly and hide her teeth where possible to keep from appearing aggressive. It was a shared trait with the Vargr, but the leonine race was easier to offend on facial expression than Zhevra’s.

“Zhevra Cannagrrh,” the Dean felt out the syllables of Zhevra’s name. “Tell me about it. I won’t take it from you just yet. Let’s talk in the dark as it calms down outside.

Zhevra was soon corrected of her assumption that all Aslan were ferocious hunters and brutal warriors. The female Aslan educated her on the female side of Regency Aslan. “We are the gender entrusted with brains, Ms. Cannagrrh. May I call you Zhevra? I hate formality in someone who seems to take in everything around her.”

The Suedzuk had to admit that through her Awareness and other senses, she did exhibit a heightened attention to everything about her person and was hanging on every word the Dean spoke. Given her recent weeks and the firefight she had just evaded, Zhevra had blocked out the stinging pain and bloody fur of her thigh. “Yes please, ma’am,” she panted to the tall female.

“Thank you,” said Dr. Hyeil. “Now what seems to be the trouble?” Zhevra saw the dewclaws slide back inside the Aslan’s arms. Following suit, she holstered her pistol. The two females then sat, Dr. Hyiel at her desk and Zhevra at one of the opposing office chairs across from the Aslan.

Zhevra took two hours to tell her tale of discovery of the Tsunami Mission and its report. She imparted the chase by the Oruelaen of the Thirz Empire allied with the Zhodani Consulate. Then Zhevra detailed her travels from the Society of Equals and Rimward to Regency. The Suedzuk omitted parts of her story concerning Gevaudan and kept her focus on the value of the folder in her claws. She longed for this Dr. Hyiel to uphold the value in the data and Zhevra’s secret theory that the Mind Tsunami was the phenomenon to turn her husband’s eyes azure blue and cause him to fall upon her in a frenzy. Instead, she explained how the Zhodani Consulate might not want the report delivered to Regency authorities.

“I don’t know why such a secret must be kept, but for that Thirz spy in the Dzen Aeng Kho to threaten me with the Zhodani Tavrchedl’, it has to be something big,” finished Zhevra. “It’s in Galanglic, if you want to look at it, Doctor.”

“Very well,” agreed Dr. Hyiel. With the light lit again over the Dean’s desk, Zhevra displayed the mission ship’s log, the attack and suicide of the ship’s Psion, the unease of the non-psionic crew and their race towards home that was caught in the vice between the Thirz Empire and the Society of Equals in the aftermath of the Equality War. Then she pointed out the mission data, the population movements and internecine fighting of the three Zhodani castes, the lowly Proles, the Intendants above them and the ruling Nobles.

“Why would they net all those decoys and actual report copies, Dr. Hyiel?” asked Zhevra at the conclusion of her story.

“My dear,” purred the female Aslan Dean, “there is so much happening in the Regency and the Spinward States that indications of a Rimward exodus to escape this thing, this tsunami, that the upper leadership of the Zhodani would need, nay require, desperate control and silence. Think of the untold chaos that would erupt in the most stable Human polity of Charted Space if this phenomenon were to go public and become known. Borders would be closed, wars to stop the exodus would break out all along the Consulate borders. Trade in the Spinward States would grind to a halt, and that, my dear is something nobody can afford. This report, if bonafide and taken seriously could destabilize the entire region behind the Claw.”

“If I give it to you, will you trade me for what I need?” asked Zhevra pleading.

“And what is that, my dear?”

Zhevra took in a calming breath as her tail stopped swaying. “I need the smartest, most capable psionic teleporter the University can provide now that the Psionic Renaissance has allowed the bald, tattooed Humans to come out as egalitarian citizens of Regency. I can’t go to the Zhodani with this report. They were the one’s being observed by the Tsunami Mission. The Splinters Psions, the Vargr ones, are so seldom now that many think they are a page of history. The Oruelaen of the Thirz Empire are in league with the Zhodani. Regency Psions, with their Oath, are my last hope to get the information I need.”

“And there are no Aslan Psions,” shrugged Dr. Hyiel. “Our Cultural Purge saw to that witch-hunt millennia ago. But as it turns out, I can help connect you to the source you seek. For the report, of course.”

Zhevra’s stomach sank again. For though the fields of the purring Dean were stable and did not change, the Suedzuk was not familiar with Aslan bio-electromagnetic fields as she was with Vargr and Humaniti. She could not ‘feel’ the sincerity of the Aslan female before her. “Make the call first and take me, then it’s yours. I don’t know or care what the Regency does with the report, I just need help with my topic.”

“A minute then,” said Dr. Hyiel as she picked up her comm. “Operator,” she requested to the person on the other end of the connection, “this is the Dean of Sociology. I need the Dean of Psychoportation at the Circle of Mysteries lodge on the line. Yes, I’ll wait.” The tall Aslan stood as she was connected and Zhevra felt the pseudo-charisma of the Dean rise a bit when she spoke.

In the Dean’s contragravity coupe, Zhevra rode with Dr. Hyiel to the cathedral-like building a sign labeled the Circle of Mysteries lodge. The five-minute ride across the island allowed Zhevra’s hopes to rise and her heart to settle. She was getting closer to solving her mantra. Under her breath, she repeated it. My husband is the greatest Pilot-Astrogator I’ve ever met. He had a plan. To jaunt, he had to have been lucid. Dr. Hyiel did not interrupt the whisperings of the red-furred female.

The coupe pulled into a parking space before the tall lodge. “Let us go inside together, young Vargr,” suggested Dr. Hyiel in a purr and slitted pupils focused on Zhevra.
 
The two females entered the Circle of Mysteries lodge. To Zhevra, it looked as if the old building had indeed once been a cathedral of a Regina church or religion now converted to the campus use by the Psionic Renaissance under the Oath of the Psions. Out of respect for the Psions she was to meet, Zhevra folded her psi-shield cowl and stuffed it into one of her web belt’s pouches.

The Aslan female, Dr. Hyiel, spoke for Zhevra in her purring voice and yet held authority as a bald Human greeted the newcomers. Denying any desire for her, an Aslan or Zhevra, a Vargr to be tested for psionics, Dr. Hyiel requested officially a late-night meeting with the Dean of Psychoporation, a fancy term to Zhevra for the psionic talent of teleportation and its theory and applications. The bald Human escorted the pair up two floors to a high vaulted floor that had to be just under the roof of the lodge. Zhevra held her tongue and felt the fields of passing Psions and escorted psionic students. She heard a small handful of new graduates speak the Oath of the Psions to a Regency lawyer and a departmental head of the lodge.

“I am a Human, I am a Regency citizen, I am a Psion. I am a person to be trusted. I possess a gift that...”

The Aslan and the Vargr were conducted by the bald Human male to the office of the Dean of Psychoportation. The door opened and inside, behind a desk sat an Aekhu Vargr dressed in a light brown robe. Between the Vargr male’s eyes and just above on his forehead, a blue dot with a white core was dyed into his facial fur. Zhevra could only assume it was distantly akin to the bald-shaved heads and tattoos of the Human Psions of the Circle of Mysteries and the greater Regency.

“Zhevra Cannagrrh,” introduced Dr. Hyiel, “this is Psion Al-rukhaer. He is the highest-rated teleportation expert on the planet if I am correct, Psion Al-rukhaer?”

“So they say, Dr. Hyiel,” affirmed the Aekhu Psion. “Come in Ms. Cannagrrh.”

Zhevra turned first to the Aslan Dean. “On the honor of the Aslan and the charisma of the Suedzuk Vargr…” She then lifted up the report to Dr. Hyiel who received it from her. The legacy of the Tsunami Mission was now in the hands – claws – of the Regency learned. What came next of the file was no longer Zhevra’s to bear.

“On my personal honor, Zhevra Cannagrrh,” promised Dr. Hyiel. “Good luck, little Suedzuk. Good evening to you, Psion Al-rukhaer.” With that the Dean of Sociology took her leave, escorted by the bald Human Psion back to her vehicle outside.

“Honor and charisma it is, yes, Ms. Cannagrrh,” said Al-rukhaer as he welcomed Zhevra into his office. The office was sparse, seemingly low-budgeted for a University department and the Suedzuk began to wonder if the Dean taught his best students from this room. “Tea?”

As nervous as she was to meet one-on-one with a Psion, Zhevra could nod affirmatively.

“You seem tense,” said the Aekhu male. “On my Oath, please take ease that I am not rated in telepathy, nor would I have wished training in such talent. There is an undercurrent of competition between the two here, you see, teleportation and telepathy, as the two most commonly known psionic disciplines. Please sit.” The Psion indicated a comfortable leather chair and he sat opposite her from the coffee table and tea set.

Over tea, which did help settle Zhevra by warming her from her spinal chills, the two Vargr put Gevaudan’s Jump into perspective and in detail. Zhevra told of her husband’s attack after going mad. She did not mention the Mind Tsunami. Concentrating on Senior Scout Gevaudan’s follow-up jaunt from the bridge of the Sixth Horizon, while the ship was in jump transit, Zhevra begged Psion Al-rukhaer for an answer to the enigma that had plagued her since awakening from her coma.

Finishing his tea first, the Aekhu Dean rose and moved to a low-tech whiteboard and began scribing formulae and equations on it in black marker.

“So you say that your husband’s ship was transiting four parsecs, beginning at the safe, one-hundred diameters limit outbound, just minutes after you initiated jump, and given his Psionic Strength rating which was cybernetically enhanced from a mediocre level; let’s run the gauntlet.” The Psion drew pictures in black marker and tried to fill in the known quantities of the equation.

Zhevra tried to follow the math with her Engineer’s education. At last, Al-rukhaer put down the marker and turned to her. “I am sorry. But for Senior Scout Gevaudan to have made an interstellar jaunt would take a source of tremendous psionic energy, even if such a feat could be performed from jumpspace. There are just too many variables and we are hindered by what we know about teleportation, just as you are with jumpspace theory and the technology that pushes starships between the stars.”

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Zhevra stood up from the leather chair in preparation to protest the explanation and tripped over a corner leg of the coffee table. Tears flooded her eyes as she fell to prone and began sobbing. The Psion who had his claws inserted into opposing robe sleeves moved to help her stand.

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Zhevra could feel the first true field of objective detachment from a Psion in Regency. It hurt her to register such a stark aura of the Psion. Gevaudan had warmth in his aura and unconditional love for her. He was no Psion. But when the Aekhu came close with his claws offered to aid her, Zhevra snatched up her pistol and pointed it at the jaunter. Though the weapon was not loaded with the anti-Psion rounds, the armor piercing rounds would still put holes in the male Vargr. The Psion froze in collected calm though his aura leaped in telegraphed surprise.

1_Grieving_Zhevra.jpg
 
Zhevra began her mantra aloud, “Gevaudan Cannagrrh is the smartest Pilot-Astrogator I have ever met. He had to have been lucid to jaunt that night. His Hazardous Environment Suit is orange. He had a plan. Gev’s eyes are ocean blue, not azure blue.”

“Ma’am, please,” back-stepped Psion Al-rukhaer. “I wish I could give you a better answer, truly.”

Zhevra kept the pistol aimed at the Dean of Psychoporation. She would feel him spooling a jaunt well before he actually teleported. If he did, he would end up on the other end of the jaunt with holes in him and bleeding out. “He had a grav-belt, survival gear, a medikit and a heavy pistol on his HEV,” she near-chanted. “He had a plan. Gevaudan is a Senior Scout. He may have nearly killed me, but he had to thought of a plan to jaunt from the ship. He would not have committed suicide. His beliefs in heroism would have prevented him.”

The repeated mantra struck a chord in Zhevra despite the babbling assurances from Al-rukhaer she could no longer lend attention. Like a prayer answered from Runetha Saetedz, Zhevra registered the Psion’s earlier words, but for Senior Scout Gevaudan to have made an interstellar jaunt would take a source of tremendous psionic energy…


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The female Vargr sobbed once or twice again but the thought hit home, composing her before the male’s eyes. She stood fully and nurtured the thought-chord, a notion of potential. I need a Sector map, said her Wildside mirror personality, the one she had consulted in the past.

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Sniffing back her tears, she numbly said to the Aekhu Dean, “Thank you for your help, Psion Al-rukhaer. You’ve said exactly what you could.” She then backed out of the office through the door, her pistol still leveled at the jaunter. Then she turned and padded from the third floor and down the steps. Heads turned and students looked up from their textbooks at her passing exit. Attaining the ground floor, Zhevra wiped away her tears. She snapped the closure on her holstered pistol.

END OF BOOK TWO
 
BOOK THREE

XXXI. Regina (Spinward Marches 1910) A788899-C
“I had stepped from the Circle of Mysteries lodge. I had new hope from the failings of the greatest psionic minds on Regina,” said Zhevra to Allain Templeton the Human advocate and her lawyer. “Had your, oh-so-trustworthy Psions left me alone, I could be well on my way to finding my husband.”

Allain Templeton looked up from his seated position at Psion Khzaeng, his assistant telepath. The quiet, mottled gray male shrugged in his brown, belted overcoat. Zhevra registered the secret gesture of affirmative response from the male Vargr. You believe I could have escaped after all you’ve heard, Khzaeng. It was not a mental question but a confirming statement.

“The arrest was by a telepathic assault and safely rendered you unconscious but for the headache when we met, Zhevra,” recalled Allain again using familiarity. To her, the two times she had attacked him in this detention facility had narrowed the gap of formality. She laughed at the thought, a cackle that made her sound more unstable.

“No rights, no trial, just going to throw me to the monkeys and let me beg for mercy from the court, right Allain?”

Allain stood up and said, “This has been hard on us all, Zhevra. My partner, Khzaeng knows the right thing to do would be to let you go home, to leave Regency, never to return just as your husband was sent from the Domain of Deneb long ago. But that won’t fly with our current laws and the Quarantine War against Virus. It’s not his call or authority anyway, nor mine. I had to choose what worked. That decision has strained even our friendship, Khzaeng and I.” The black-haired Human seemed to look distant to a memory at the admission. “I’m sorry Khzaeng. I’m sorry, Zhevra. This is the way our justice system works.”

Khzaeng, say something to him! Zhevra gazed at the Psion and begged with her thoughts. The Psion did not respond though he looked at Zhevra as if she were shouting at the top of her lungs. His ears flattened.

The lawyer turned to his right, facing back the way the counsel pair had come. In his hands was Zhevra’s case file and he reached out for the recording device. The guards were coming to escort Allain Templeton and Psion Khzaeng from the cellblock. Allain’s hand never closed on the black cylinder device he had used in recording Zhevra’s story.

From behind the bars Zhevra could feel the electromagnetic energy of the stunning pulses of energy that dropped Psion Khzaeng first and Allain Templeton second in the blink of an eye. Her eyes were slower and she looked to the edge of her cell wall for the pulse she could feel only to see, peripherally, the pair fall to the floor, twitching in convulsive spasms.

“Move fast,” said a female voice. Guard Crow, the Vilani-mix appeared before the bars of the cell. She said to the other, newer guards, “We don’t know how long a stunner will keep the Psion down. Put them in separate cells away from each other, maybe Number One and Number Seven.” The guards, one of which had twice winked at Zhevra before, dragged the advocate and the Psion off out of view of the female’s cell.

The female, shower guard addressed the Suedzuk, “You are coming with us. We’re going to make this look like a psionics kidnapping. Just put on this black hood over your head and let us lead you from this place to my ship. Do you understand?” The tall Vilani-mix held out a spandex-lycra hood in one hand, the other occupied by a stunner pistol. “If you don’t come with us, I’ll have to stun you, making this much harder than it need be.” Her voice was deeper for a tall female. Zhevra could only nod obeisantly. As a Suedzuk with Awareness, she did not want to feel the bite of a stunner’s disabling energies. “Good,” said Crow. “A few of us managed to break into Evidence and retrieve your clothes and gear, but you can’t have them until orbit. Get me?” A second guard was unlocking the cell door.

Crow and the newer guards began to unzip their detention center overalls. Pulling off the uniforms revealed the skin-tight, black bodysuits that featured silver tridents, the ancient Terran, Greek symbol psi for psionic. Zhevra, still in her prison blues, saw now their plan. By adopting the outer garb of rogue Psions, Zhevra would be assumed kidnapped by psionic persons not bound by the Oath or otherwise specially registered operatives with some sort of special clearance to remove the prisoner from the facility. Stunners were holstered, batons were still held, and Crow watched the cellblock as the guards-turned-operatives untethered Zhevra from the back wall of her cell.

Zhevra was nervous as she let a guard fit the black hood over her head. Still in chains, she was hooded in darkness and felt about her for the fields of her liberators. Two sets of arms guided her from the cell as Crow took up the slack length of chain before her. She imagined what the cameras would see as she was hauled rapidly from the cellblock and down halls that smelled of ammonium cleaning agents. In her mind, she could put herself in the position of security monitor guards seeing black-clad operatives heisting Zhevra from the detention facility, out a receiving dock, (it smelled of diesel engine fumes from ground delivery trucks). The heightened Lek of the fields about Zhevra only encouraged her to focus and rely on her Awareness and hearing. Every where there was a power source or electromagnetic lock, a living field or other similar source, Zhevra registered it in passing though she did not betray her Awareness in being taken by the Human hands holding her upper arms in guidance and rush.

One flaw occurred to Zhevra as she was loaded into a grav-van to the tune of facility alarms, sirens mostly, sounding. The rogue ‘psions’ had not used a single talent in her liberation. She asked herself if Allain and Khzaeng would later review the security footage of her kidnapping and realize that her rescuers were dressed as psions but did not evidence tell-tale talents. The Suedzuk put it from her mind. As long as she was freed from a future involving a mental ward, unstable patients and psychotropic drugs, Zhevra let herself be guided and transported. The grav-van lifted, and she heard stunner fire as it accelerated from her confinement since waking in that rusty dungeon and meeting Allain Templeton and Psion Khzaeng.

As the grav-van sped through what she imagined was Credo City, Zhevra risked a question at the fields of now-Operative Crow. “Why?”

Crow’s Mag raised, “Why what?”

“Why are you rescuing me and making it look like a kidnapping?”

“We aren’t done yet and still have a way to go to my Yacht in orbit. Its 30dT ship’s boat is waiting for us at Credo Downport. I’ve had its markings sandblasted off in a listed re-painting line up of projects. It looks little more than a pre-Collapse flying dinghy but will get us to my ship. As to why, I’ll have time to explain it when we give you back your sight on my Yacht. Then it will fit and jive with what you might already know.”

Zhevra sat in thought in the back of the grav-van. The vehicle tilted in banking turns along the skyways through the planetary capital. Her chains rattled when that happened. In the dark of the hood, the female imagined the van stopping before a ship’s boat to lift from dirtside to orbit and dock with a Yacht, a rich-kid’s luxury starship and plaything.

All too soon her imagined route became a similar reality. Zhevra was helped from the rear of the grav-van and a heavy cardboard box was pushed into her arms and claws. “Carry this and be guided to the boat,” said Crow. Zhevra nodded in darkened silence under the hood. Arms grabbed her again and ushered her forward as the grav-van lifted behind her and took once more to the skies above. Ahead, Zhevra heard the hum of a smallcraft maneuver drive. “Help her inside while I man the helm,” ordered the female Vilani-mix.

Zhevra was plunked down on a long bench between two of the operatives to rush her from the detention facility. She felt the ship’s boat lift and the subsequent takeover of gravity deck plates to normalize the rising action of the craft. Anxious to again see and be free, Zhevra listened to the cockpit voices of Crow and her co-pilot. The turbulence of Regina’s atmosphere soon freed the ship’s boat to outer space. She imagined the satellite world of Regina falling below her and the gas giant Assiniboia looming before the smallcraft.
 
Fifteen minutes or so of planet-to-orbit commute passed as Zhevra heard the docking maneuvers of the ship’s boat to its mothership Yacht. Crow came aft to Zhevra and the cycling airlock door.

“Unchain her and take off that hood,” Crow ordered. “We’re mated with my ship and my crew is already thrusting.” Zhevra’s collar, manacles and chain leash were unlocked to fall to the deck floor and the dimming cabin was revealed. Crow was before her, offering her hand to the female Vargr. “Come with me?” she asked.

Her tail hanging low, Zhevra took the former guard’s hand and carried the heavy box in the other arm. She was helped from the ship’s boat onto the Yacht. It was a luxurious starship. By the fields emitted from the nearby Engineering compartment, Zhevra could feel that this was a Yacht-class variant of some kind. It smelled new now that the black cloth hood had been removed. Crow took Zhevra to a large statoom suite, the kind occupied by starship Owners or Captains. Again, another order of starship extravagance, Crow moved to a standing closet and began changing clothes.
“Your clothes and gear are in that box,” Crow said as she pulled off the black Psi-Operatives bodysuit. “Go ahead and dress, put on your gear, Zhevra.” The familiarity was disturbing from the shower guard to pass her an insulting bottle of dog shampoo. She complied and pulled off the prison blues and selected her black and yellow double bra and double thong. Her familiar web belt was present, but she rummaged some more to thankfully come up with the treasured lavender leather collar with the silver buckle and studs and adorned with her golden heart pendant. It was her physical tie-in with her missing husband. Thinking of him, Zhevra asked Crow, “Can I look at a Sector map of Gvurrdon?”

“Finish dressing,” answered Crow. “Then we can get some things off your mind, answer questions and plan your next move. We’re circling Assinboia right now to put the gas giant between us and Regina. When you jump the flash will not be seen from the satellite mainworld.”

“Jump in what?” asked Zhevra. “This ship?”

“Oh no, Zhevra,” assured Crow smiling wistfully. “We’re busting your ship, his ship, whatever, out of impound from the space yard on the far side for you.”

Zhevra finished buckling on her collar and holstered the pistol in her thigh holster. Then, fully dressed, she asked, “Who are you, Crow?”

“Ah, yes,” said the Vilani-mix female. “What personal combat weapons do you remember on your husband’s ship?”

Zhevra recalled her exploration of the Sixth Horizon as Gevaudan Cannagrrh’s concubine slave. “There was a rune-engraved maul hammer.”
Nodding, Crow said, “My grandfather had one too. It’s a Jotunhammer, a clumsy maul of the Sword Worlds Confederation taken from pirates during the Fifth Frontier War. They were trophies my grandfather collected. What else, Zhevra?”

“There was an Officer’s cutlass, Third Imperium-make,” rememberd Zhevra aloud.

“Yes!” said Crow. “When the Far Scout was captured, I insinuated myself on the search crew as part of security sweeps. Don’t worry. The robots are fine. Offline for now, but fine. That cutlass is my grandfather’s weapon. He told me he gave it to a Vargr hero at the end of the War. In return that hero gave my grandfather, Captain Jacob Crow this.” Producing the resin baton, Crow then twisted the handle and separated the unlocked two pieces of the detention center nightstick. The core of the weapon was hollow as Zhevra watched. From inside the tall female slid a thin, six-inch wooden Wand. Holding up the artcarved wood Crow held it out where the female Vargr could examine it. Along the main shaft was burned a story in Gvegh language. At the handle end of the Wand was the carved likeness of her husband, Gevaudan Cannagrrh. Zhevra’s heart leapt to see the tiny, lupine head of her husband.

“The first of the Wands from the Six of Wands, your husband, Zhevra,” said Crow. “Yes. I am former Regency Naval Service, Ensign Katherine ‘Katy’ Crow, granddaughter to Captain Jacob Crow friend to your husband Gevaudan. They were in the same mercenary company, the Artemis Group. The adventures my grand-pap told me!”

“You took the cutlass during the inspection,” Zhevra recalled. “That’s why it came up missing.”

“Yes,” explained Katy Crow. “And to even the score inherited between us, you will take this with you. I can’t count the number of times I’ve read the story burned on the shaft of that Wand. But I wanted my grand-pap’s sword. So, in trade, I rescued you and soon you will take that Wand with you back home to Gvurrdon Sector. Surely the RQS isn’t stupid enough to chase you into the Wilds once you leave however you got into the Regency.” Katy then handed the Wand to a weeping Zhevra. Through teary eyes, the Suedzuk closely examine the tiny bust of Gevaudan Cannagrrh.
“I’m hungry,” declared Katy Crow. “I’ll go get us some food. Meat, right? Me too.” The tall Vilani-mix woman then left Zhevra alone in the double-wide stateroom.

Zhevra was torn between reading the story on the Wand or looking out the cabin’s observation view ports in hopes of glimpsing the impounded Sixth Horizon. Since rounding the gas giant took longer, she looked down once more at the wooden Wand in her shaking claws.

The story, burned into the wood in Gvegh, told of an episode of adventure between Senior Scout Gevaudan Cannagrrh the so-called Six of Wands, and Captain Jacob Crow of the Third Imperium Navy on Retainer. Crow and Gevaudan were on the world of Laberv in the Darrian Confederation when a Darrian rogue psychic from nearby Rorre had touched Crow and psionically swapped consciousness into the opposing body. The Rorrean psychic took over Crow’s newly augmented body, fresh out of recovery. Crow was forced into a wanted man’s body and the transfer knocked him unconscious. The Rorrean psychic, not ready for the presence of bodily augments was disoriented and confused with the cybernetics so new to the body he had forcefully swapped from Crow by touching him in passing. Upon waking Crow in the body of a tall Darrian went to hunt for his assailant and his real form.

As luck would have it, the Darrian Crow encountered Gevaudan Cannagrrh, his compatriot in the Artemis Group of mercenaries. The white Vargr had followed Jacob Crow to Laberv where the two could undergo cybernetic augmentation. Crow had emerged from recovery first and now he met with the Equal Gevaudan to enlist his help.

At first, Gevaudan did not recognize Darrian Crow and thought the person before him was insane. That is, until the mind of Crow was able to recall something only Captain Jacob Crow knew about Gevaudan Cannagrrh. Using his olfactory synesthesia talent of clairvoyance, Gevaudan was able to sniff, or con, Darrian Crow and realize that this person was truly his ally, Jacob Crow.

The pair, Crow and Gevaudan were confronted by Darrians seeking the wanted Rorrean and found Darrian Crow. Gevaudan moved to defend his friend, but Darrian Crow asked him to stand down. Through lengthy negotiation, the station security with help from Gevaudan’s ‘sniffer’ and Darrian Crow; the tracked down the Rorrean psychic in Crow’s body. He was still delirious in trying to adapt himself to the augmented body the rea Crow was long used to.

With a ranged stunner, Darrian Crow was able to stun his true body and rush to again touch his psychic assailant, righting once more the body swap and returning to his true form.

The help Jacob Crow gained from Senior Scout Gevaudan Cannagrrh forged a friendship that Crow later returned in testifying on Gevaudan’s behalf to Archduke Norris Aella Aledon. Suspected of being a Psion spy, his talents outed, Crow’s testimony saved the life of the enthic Vargr from the Society of Equals. Rather than death as the other Dukes and Viscounts desired, Norris superseded them all with his Imperial Warrant from Emperor Strephon and shocking the court by merely banishing Gevaudan in his new Far Scout, the Sixth Horizon.

It was not hard for Zhevra to imagine Gevaudan crafting or having the six wooden Wands and giving them to his closest compatriots. In return, that must have been how her husband ended up with Crow’s Captain cutlass on the rack of the ship’s locker. After reading the story, the female Suedzuk was glad that the sword had come full circle back to the granddaughter of Gevaudan’s friend. In doing so, Zhevra was able to see at least the likeness of her missing husband again.

In the carboard box, Zhevra found the case file on her, filled with Allain Templeton’s illegible, shorthand lawyerese. Additionally, she lifted the black recording device. The two items must have been taken as an afterthought. As the scents of dinner wafted through the Yacht to the large stateroom, Zhevra switched on the recording device.
 
“To Regency Advocate Allain Templeton and Psion Khzaeng: this is Zhevra Cannagrrh. I am alive and well. My captors who took me by my chains from Regina are treating me well. Allowed to keep the recorder, I hope someday to courier the recording back to you two. Though it pains me, I must thank you and Khzaeng for helping me in no small way to piece together Gevaudan’s Jump. It is my hope to escape soon from my captors and make a run back to Gvurrdon Sector and continue the search for my husband. I will continue to log recordings of my progress. I hope you’ll understand if I don’t turn myself in at the earlier opportunity. I don’t relish being branded insane, locked away and overmedicated to keep a Wildside Suedzuk on a short mental and emotional leash. Call me a ‘red-pelt’ or madwoman or whatever label makes you feel superior. You’re just small Humans and Regency pets to me. Do not come looking for me, Allain and Khzaeng. I don’t believe my captors will surrender me to you. Until my next recording, fare however you wish.”

It was a fabricated report, but Zhevra did not care. It kept Katy Crow from suspicion, disguised as they were as rogue Psion operatives. Depositing the case file folder and the recording device back inside the box, Zhevra set the container on the floor next to the bed. Then she went to eat real meat.
 
XXXII. Regina (Spinward Marches 1910) A788899-C
Zhevra Cannagrrh listened to Katy Crow’s plan as they ate a fancy steak dinner in the dining room of her Yacht. Katy, through the use of the Yacht’s computer displayed that the Sixth Horizon had been impounded on another moon of the gas giant of Assiniboia almost opposite in orbit of Regina. While the larger, capital hulls and unstreamlined ships were put into a locked orbit, any ship that could land or float was held on the moon’s surface. The Suedzuk relaxed to see that the impound moon was habitable, one of four in the entire system.

“Where we’ll part ways, Zhevra Cannagrr,” said Katy Crow, “is in the procuring of your ship. While I distract the admin crew at the dirtside headquarters, you will spacedrop to the Sixth Horizon and steal it back. From my inspection days ago, the robots on board will only allow someone who knows the command codes access to the ship’s systems. Many have already tried to crack the codes.”

Zhevra waved a claw between bites of steak, “What do yo mean space drop?”
Katy smiled and elaborated with, “You will be recognizable if you emerge from my Yacht, Zhevra. In order to get close to the ship, you will need to literally fall on it. In one of my HEVs, you will jump from low orbit, fall through the atmosphere and then engage the grav belt and pilot it to the airlock of the Sixth Horizon. Given that you still remember the command codes, that is.”

“I remember them,” said Zhevra. “It’s just that I’ve never piloted a grav belt before.”

Katy looked surprised but began cutting more of her steak, “And you’re ex-navy. I thought everyone received Zero-G training in interstellar naval forces.”

“In the Third Imperium Navy perhaps, Regency too,” answered Zhevra. “But back home in Enclave Famuurueroergoghz, the focus was more on the ship than individuals. Being a cruiser Engineer, I was not expected much more than vaccsuit training.”

“No matter,” said Katy. The guard then talked with her mouth full, expecting Zhevra to fully understand her. “We can pre-program a descent route for you. Can you at least jump out an airlock?”

“That I can do, if you do your part right,” said Zhevra adding the condition with a tilt of her head to bare her neck. She was unsure if the gesture was known to the granddaughter of Captain Crow.

Katy continued to eat but nodded.

As Crow’s Yacht, the Harbinger, rounded great Assiniboia, Zhevra could feel the ship’s turbulence as it skimmed the outer atmosphere for the fuel processors on board. It stood to her reasoning to have a full tank going into a starship theft operation. Having finished her meal, she began checking her items and reloading her magazines for the pistol Katy had returned to her. Again, choosing armor piercing rounds, the Suedzuk decided that guards would be armored like the ones at the University of Regina campus woods.

Then it was time for Zhevra to dress in her own Hazardous Environment Vaccsuit. Shaped for her Vargr race, the HEV was meant to withstand gentle, planetary re-entry maneuvers with the assistance of a grav-belt which would arrest her descent. Under normal piloting, the belt could be directed, but Zhevra had no such training and she found herself trusting a Human woman who only days before tried to insult her with a bottle of dog shampoo.

“Why the dog shampoo, Katy?” asked the red and cream-colored female to the Vilani-mix dressing her.

“Oh, that,” remembered Katy. “That was to get you angry at me. You see, that Psion Vargr was likely scanning everyone. I had to try and get you pissed at me for the racist gesture so that if the court telepath read your mind, he’d only figure me as an enemy of yours and unlikely to help you. Since I was night shift, I was lucky to never cross paths with him. Then I was to escort you to the showers. Precautions only, really. I don’t have anything against Vargr. It was the nearest thing I could find to be a burr in your side. I’m not that good at truly angering a Vargr.”

Zhevra smiled a Vargr smile. This Katy was really not that bad for the granddaughter of a friend of her husband’s. She was in this for Jacob Crow’s cutlass but there was something in Katy’s fields that was tweaked to adventuring. Similar to Gevaudan’s, the Mag was up and the Lek was nominal. Young Crow was enjoying herself. How often does get the opportunity to score grandfather’s blade and help steal a relic vessel of the Third Imperium?

Sealed in her HEV with a grav-belt secured on her torso and hips, Zhevra felt heavy as she was used to normal vaccsuits. An HEV had greater armor and longer life support in harsher conditions. Katy guided the Suedzuk to the airlock. Putting on the helmet last, the woman said, “Just follow the pre-programmed instructions and you’ll be standing on the hull of your ship. We will not meet again, Zhevra Cannagrrh. I wish you good fortune as you return to Gvurrdon or wherever you are to next.”

“Oh, it’s Gvurrdon all right,” confirmed Zhevra who hugged the taller female in the heavy gear. Katy Crow returned the hug though she was a little more formal. Zhevra then received a pat on the head before the helmet went on. Hearing the seals pressurize, she gave the thumbclaw-up to Katy. The former guard nodded and left Zhevra for the bridge. The Suedzuk patted the pocket where she had stored the wooden Wand that Katy had given her. How many more secrets must Gevaudan answer for when she presented him with the gift?

“Five minutes to drop,” came the all over the HEV’s comm.

“Ack-acknowledged,” answered Zhevra. She was becoming nervous. Zhevra tried to focus on the image of her husband. I’m coming, Gev. Please hold on. Wait for me. The time was over before she wanted it to come.

1_Gevaudan_Portrait.jpg
 
“Drop window attained,” called Katy again over the comm. “Opening the airlock, Zhevra. You can jump when ready.”

The outer door of the airlock slid open. Above Zhevra was the great gas giant Assiniboia like a banded sky. Below the Harbinger was the impounding moon and its atmosphere. The Suedzuk stepped to the edge of the airlock, its threshold. This was the final barrier. The ship’s gravity let go of her and the HEV she wore. Gasping, Zhevra could feel her resolve melting and her left leg beginning to threaten her with tremors. Not now!

“Jump, Zhevra,” called Katy from the bridge. “It’s okay. The grav-belt will autopilot once you’re in the stratosphere. Jump.”

Her left leg shaking, Zhevra pushed off with both arms and her right leg. Out and away from Katy’s Yacht, she arced before plummeting downwards. Initially, she felt nothing but the pull of the moon’s gravity. Then the first bands of outer atmosphere spun her body end over end. Grunting and closing her eyes from the repeated flashes of the gas giant’s image in her helmet, Zhevra tried to slow her breathing. Then came the turbulence that buffeted her HEV. Remembering to spread out her limbs to flatten against the atmosphere, the frightened female went spread eagle. The action flipped her prone to see the moon approaching her as she fell.

Off to her left, Zhevra could see the flame trail of the Harbinger as it began re-entry and leaving a long stream of superheated atmosphere in its descent wake. Katy’s ship would take longer to arrive and have an easier final approach than Zhevra. When the sky went from stars and black to thin and pale blue, she heard the grav-belt activate and speak in a computer voice, “Autopilot engaged. Piloting to designated coordinates.”

With a sigh and a private cry with tears and sobs, Zhevra let out her fears and frustrations she’d kept penned inside since her arrest. She had seen it necessary to shoot people, hate Psion Khzaeng, Infight Allain, and chew the advocate out even after all the good food he had purchased for her. Ahead was Gevaudan’s ship and escape from Regency. Whatever came of the Tsunami Mission report and afterwards was not Zhevra’s baggage. She had all the clues to piece together Gevaudan’s Jump. When her sobs became giddy chuckles, Zhevra opened her eyes to see the moon’s surface dotted with many landing fields full of sleek, streamlined and standard hulls. The sky had deepened to a firm blue as the turbulence increased. Anytime now, computer.

Sky diving now, Zhevra was able to see the yards where impounded or derelict Type-S Scout hulls were kept. Since Gevaudan’s ship was technically a Scout vessel, it stood to reason that his ship was present among the arrowheads dotting the yards. It easy to pick out the Sixth Horizon as it was the only vessel that still had a bright white paint scheme with red highlights and a red stripe along its sides. Being twice the size of the Scouts, the Fast Far Scout’s damage was evident. The Corsair missile had gutted Stateroom Four. He’s going to be mad at me.

Then the HEV jerked at the Vargr female with the grav-belt seizing the fall to a zig-zag, controlled descent similar to a parachute’s back and forth trajectories. Zhevra’s chuckles began to improve to giggles. The action up righted her to view the ground and include the horizon. She saw the Harbinger descending to the main building several miles away. Even at that distance, it would only be minutes of flight on an air/raft to respond to a ship being stolen. Zhevra would have to give the command codes and immediately begin a cold start of the power plant and rush fire the maneuver drive. She would need Vincent’s help too.

All too soon the ground approached as Zhevra’s feet touched the asphalt. However, her left leg was still trembling and failed her. In a rolling tumble, the female Vargr came down hard though the armored HEV protected her. “You have just crashed,” said the grav-belt’s tiny computer in her comm. “Checking damage.”

“Oh, shut up,” said Zhevra who worked herself to stand once she rolled to prone.

Limping across many yards of tarmac to the Sixth Horizon, the suited Suedzuk was witness to a group of Vargr running from the Fast Far Scout. Barks and shouts in Aekhu were heard as Zhevra tried to pull off her helmet. Six males ran past her and called at her until one changed language to Galanglic, “They’re crazy, haywire or something! Run!”
And that is why you don’t hack my husband’s ship, mongrels. From their second-hand gear in piecemeal, Zhevra could tell that these Vargr were scavengers. Either in the employ of the local yards and looking for unclaimed gear, components or systems or the Aekhu were on the planet’s surface illegally as was Zhevra. The Suedzuk was too late in removing her helmet to call out to the escaping Vargr.

“Oh well,” Zhevra said to herself. “Time to go talk to the guys again.”

“Halt!” called Vincent at the airlock door. “You must have the command codes to enter. Owner’s orders.”

At last Zhevra got the HEV helmet off her head to call up to Vincent, “I know, Vincent. I left those orders when I stepped off ship on Regina.”

“Zhevra Cannagrrh,” announced Vincent to Bob behind him. “Our current Captain has returned.”

“I have, but I didn’t think I would have gotten arrested and arraigned in doing so.”

“You must speak the command codes to gain access, ma’am,” declared Vincent.

Zhevra nodded from inside her HEV. “Remember this always: I love you unconditionally always,” she said to Vincent.

Vincent tilted his robotic head to the side with more curiosity than the Vargr gesture for surrender. Then he stood upright and said, “You have the con.”

“I have the con,” answered Zhevra. “Prep for cold-start and immediate lift-off. Vincent, I’m gonna need SIN sensors again to watch for intercepts while I fast-crunch the numbers for jump.” She climbed a dropped ladder the scavengers had been using to assault the ship. At the airlock, the Vargr female was helped aboard by Vincent. “Bob, can you please man a turret, so we are ready for anything once under way?”

Bob nodded and moved to allow Zhevra inside the ship. “I am sorry, ma’am. Officials from the Highport searched the ship. Though I provided a thorough list of everything on board, they took a cutlass from the ship’s locker.”

“It’s okay, Bob,” said Zhevra who turned left to limp down the axis corridor. “I know who has it. It is in good hands from now on. Count it off our equipment list.”

In the power plant room Zhevra called on the intercom, “Cold-starting now.”
Vincent answered from the bridge, “Power flowing. Boards online. Bridge online.”

The suited Suedzuk then rounded the corner to the maneuver drive room to activate the main, in-system drives. She had to deal with the cramped quarters as the entire compartment was shared with the redundant HEPlaR drive still installed. “Power to maneuver drive complete. Coming forward.” Tromping forward up the corridor, Zhevra saw Bob ascend into the forward, dorsal turret.
 
Entering the bridge, the HEV was catching on everything in the compact cockpit. However, Zhevra did not have time to take it off. “Vincent, how are we looking?”

“Passive scopes and SIN sensors are registering various vehicles converging on the main yards building some miles away,” reported Vincent smugly. “No aerospace or spaceship contacts yet.”

“Intellect on please,” commanded Zhevra.

“Sixth Horizon computer active,” answered the neuter, computer voice of the ship’s computer.

“Floaters lift-off and translate to vertical in six seconds.”

“Commencing countdown.”

“Same as before, Vincent,” said Zhevra, “Only this time, I only need five gees. I think I can take it.”

“As you wish, ma’am.”

Zhevra shook off the HEV gloves that were still attached by cords to the suit’s wrists. Grabbing the holographic controls, the female pointed the ship almost upside down and then said, “Go.”

The vertical ship burst from the yard of impounded vessels, causing a few to rock on their landing gears. Grunting hard against the acceleration, Zhevra kept breathing in controlled, deep breaths.

“We are being hailed by the impound office Tower,” said Vincent.

“No answer,” groaned Zhevra.

The Sixth Horizon climbed ever higher from the moon, up through the atmosphere. Already breaking the sound barrier, the rear-view monitor displayed the air cone encircling the ship. Zhevra flipped the three safety switches on Turret #1 for Bob and said, “Warning shots only please, Bob.” As the ship breached the upper atmosphere and into sub-orbital space, several blips on the sensors appeared.

“We appear to have company, ma’am,” reported Vincent.

“I’m going to start calculations for Whanga, Vincent,” Zhevra said to the SensOp robot next to her in the cockpit.

Vincent warned in a worried voice, “We are still a few hours from one hundred diameters, ma’am. Recommend jump delay until then.”

“I’m the Engineer, remember?” With Gevaudan’s ‘Gator laptop, Zhevra began the number-crunching to jump to Whanga (Spinward Marches 1806) instead of travelling back the way she had come into Regency. Then she heard the thumping noise of Bob firing the particle cannon as the beams were still too far out of range. “Point defense with the lasers please, Bob,” she called over the intercom.

“I can feed a sensor lock and firing solution to Bob, ma’am,” offered Vincent.

“Do it and then go to Turret #2,” answered Zhevra. “Warning shots, Vincent.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Minutes later, the astrogation path was locked into the ship’s computer when Gevaudan’s laptop gave all Green lights. Zhevra jumped up from the helm and bounded in her HEV wear down the axis corridor. She passed Vincent who too was firing the second turret’s weapons.

“Enemy vessels are closing, ma’am,” called down Vincent from above Zhevra.

“I know!” called Zhevra. In the jumpdrive room, Zhevra spoke over the intercom, “Horizon, go to six gees until I re-route power to the zuchai crystals. Mark.”

“Compliance,” answered the ship’s computer. Zhevra was pinned to the console by the new acceleration as she tapped controls on the board.

“Ch-ch-charging the jumpdrives. Vincent to b-bridge!” The Suedzuk was struggling to breathe as the ship pushed on her. She had to hold consciousness long enough for the jumpdrive to charge fully and erect a jump field. Yellow lights flashed before her eyes as she rigged the controls to override the safeties for another hard jump. Her pulse was pounding in her ears as Zhevra modified the jump field as to leave Regina as safely as possible despite the chance of utter destruction in the face of Assiniboia.

“On my way,” called the robot.

A thump struck the ship followed immediately by Bob’s call, “Missile defense is becoming inefficient, ma’am. There are too many inbound missiles for laser cycling.”

“Okay. O-,” said Zhevra as her ears started ringing in the jumpdrive room. The maneuver drives cut out and almost dumped her on the deck at the release from the acceleration. As soon as she saw the full charge on the zuchai crystals, she smacked the red override button and then with her other claw, the Suedzuk digited the board command to jump. She was almost in brown-out. Her field of vision was a haze.
 
“We have jumped, ma’am,” called Vincent from the bridge.

“Damage?” huffed and puffed Zhevra. From her crouched position on the deck, she drew in huge breaths of air.

Vincent took a second to read off the Engineering board on the bridge. “I am reading a buckling of the portside armor plating and some damage to their opposite photovoltaic panels, ma’am. Assiniboia’s gravity well has pulled on the ship’s armor causing- ”

“I know what that means, Vincent,” gasped Zhevra. Trying to normalize her breathing, she came to stand and look at the corresponding board in the jumpdrive room. “We’ll have to repair it later if we get a chance. What is our approximate jump transit duration?”

Another delay of silence occurred before Vincent answered with, “One-hundred fifty-two hours in jumpspace transit, plus or minus two or more hours due to hard jump variables, ma’am.” Six and one-third days to Whanga.

Zhevra had again chosen a world with low technology in-system so that she had little local trouble in choosing of the four gas giants there to refuel the Fast Far Scout. The new route home would mean a side trip to Menorb (Spinward Marches 1803), the home of the Followers of Runetha Saetedz, Gevaudan’s religion and philosophy of heroic endeavors and behavior. On Menorb, Zhevra could purchase fuel, but only so she could lift again in a hurry. Though this was a new route, Zhevra knew she could not stop to pay her respects even if she was not a Follower. From Menorb would be the hidden calibration point of the Dzen Aeng Kho, so long as Allain Templeton had not yet reported his findings to the prosecution yet. If he had, then the calibration point was no longer a secret and was dangerous to approach.
 
XXXIII. Menorb (Spinward Marches 1803) C652998-7
Zhevra spoke into the black cylindrical recording device after switching it on. “To Allain Templeton: by now, you must have gotten notice that the Sixth Horizon blasted its way out of impound. My captors forced me to jump from orbit to ground, something I’ve never attempted in my entire life. It was frightful to trust in a grav-belt autopilot on the way down. It was I who regained access to the ship. You already knew I had the command codes. I’m leaving Regency, Allain. Hopefully you have not given your full report to Regina Traffic Control because I need to use the hidden calibration point to refuel and escape to one of three worlds just outside the Quarantine Line. Allain, I-…I feel the need to apologize. As I fell from the sky toward the Sixth Horizon, I realized I never thanked you for all the breakfast meals you bought for me while in detention. I may be a crazy bitch at times but thanking you for getting me to talk it out, all of it, was therapeutic in its own way.”

“I am going to solve Gevaudan’s Jump. Do not follow me or try to hinder me in any way, Allain. It’s not your job and beyond the scope of both you and Psion Khzaeng anyway. You may think me a grieving and hysterical female, but Khzaeng knows I am confident in my husband. Right or wrong, the bills of damages mounting, I will find my husband or die trying. Until my next entry, Allain.”

Two weeks later, in Menorb system, Zhevra found herself in the biggest in-system traffic jam known to Regina subsector. The New Menorb Starport was already full to capacity and any ship capable of landing dirtside had been diverted to land at the salt flats immediately outside the landing fields. The dry world of Menorb had only twenty percent of hydrosphere and fuel tankers of every sort sat in orbit to offer refined fuel at exorbitant rates. Zhevra had paid a gratuity to a tanker to keep her refueling off the books. Amazingly the tanker crew heartily agreed and accepted Gevaudan’s money even though it was from outside Regency. Approach vectors had been nose-to-fin all the way down to the planet’s surface. By some miracle, Zhevra held her assigned course and blended well among the silent march of landing vessels. In doing so, the Sixth Horizon was not recognized as a wanted ship by Regina.

The reason for all the traffic was soon discovered. Every six years, Menorb planet endured a pilgrimage celebration called Kengrogarz. The festive season was to last thirty days and pack the Starport, the cities and streets with religious Vargr from all over the subsector and some who still took the past year to gain slow and bureaucratic entry into Regency from Uthe and Firgr subsectors’ faithful. Though many who came to Menorb had been to the previous Kengrogarz, some like Zhevra were herded to large medical tents for customs and vaccine treatments against a local disease called the Murk. The festivities celebrated Runetha Saetedz the scoundrel and adventurer with the core of the religious gathering at the Greater Thatho Temple in the Dro-Zhemm Hills outside the Startown. After the assembly line injections which were not friendly, Zhevra was allowed to enter New Menorb Starport. The shot to her upper arm reminded her of her time as a concubine slave. Then she found that the skies above the Startown were a constant buzz with contragravity vehicles imported for the festivities. Ground traffic was a snarl of wheeled vehicles and pedestrians trying to make way to lodging or to makeshift encampments on large asphalt fields that held nothing when the Kengrogarz was absent from Menorb.

Zhevra had asked Bob and Vincent to guard the Sixth Horizon as she made way to collection of beast-drawn wagons and flatbed trucks destined for Thatho Temple. For a small fee, the Suedzuk under her gray, psi-shield cowl to shield her from telepaths and the bright and oppressive red sun’s glare, rode to the hills. Old Red-Eye glared down at the city as her vehicle, a flatbed truck, honked and slowly plowed its way along the winding road up the hillsides. She knew she had no time for this, but Gevaudan had never been to a Kengrogarz though it was his chosen philosophy and religion. Using her husband’s laptop computer camera, Zhevra took as many pictures as she could before sliding it into a carrying case with a shoulder strap. Other Vargr were likewise recording their pilgrimage. Adults and children, Vargr and some Humans included crowded the four entrances to the Greater Thatho Temple.

As Old Red-Eye, the world’s red star began to settle on the horizon, Zhevra had no trouble seeing in the dusk. The reason for this was the huge, glowing ball that floated above the Temple. At a brilliant and eye-stinging thirty meters in diameter, the sphere was a yellow second sun that lit up the throngs still trying to make their way through the Temple. Tented kiosks selling food, water, and various advertisements concerning politics on Menorb and the subsector of space lined the avenues into and out of the Temple grounds. The Suedzuk took pictures of everything she could when she had the elbow room to allow her. The reek of three-legged riding beasts made the air foul when the arid winds died down in the sunset. Zhevra’s feet were beginning to tire when she finally was permitted entrance to the Temple.

Stepping inside the great halls, Zhevra toured and photographed every exhibit in the life of Runetha Saetedz. Reading the multilingual plaques and captions, the Suedzuk came to a decision that Saetedz was indeed a hero, but not so much more than the stories Gevaudan had imparted to her. As the crowd slowly pushed her to the next chambers, Zhevra decided that her story was just as full of ups and downs. Smiling in a small, private fit of self-awareness, she missed an incoming shove that threw her to the ground. She landed on her side and her gray hood fell back on her shoulders to reveal her face.

“A Red Pelt!” came the call of a tall and dark-furred Aekhu Vargr male dressed in desert robes. He was older and wore a grimace of disgust and hatred on his face. His yellow teeth were bare, daring her to rise and face him. The male drew the attention of the already crowded people. Zhevra had not felt the attack through her Awareness due to the many, overlapping fields of people present in the Temple. There were grunts and barks of protest that this new space between the male and the fallen female had been opened. “Her kind nuked an entire planet and later plundered Antra subsector!”

Zhevra rubbed her forearm that had caught her fall. Weaponless, she sat up and regarded the grizzly Aekhu. “The Sack of Gashikan was more than two and a half millennia ago, gray-muzzle,” said the Suedzuk. “I am no Red Pelt.” She then stood up, answering the challenge of the bared teeth of the male. Tails of Vargr stopped still.

Many Vargr and a few Humans familiar with Vargr charisma saw the answered challenge and the body language involved. There was going to be Infighting in the crowded halls if not stopped. “Not here!” cried a Vargr dam of four pups.

“Take it outside, you two!” called a Gvegh male. Zhevra could see the Temple’s ‘heroes’, likened to priests, trying to elbow their way through the throngs of pilgrims.

“Arrogant Red Pelt,” said the Aekhu male who recognized her. “How dare you come here and stain this Temple with your bloody pelt! Ruetha was a true hero, not some genocidal monster like your kind.” He flexed his claws to punctuate his statement.

“I told you, I am no Red Pelt,” answered Zhevra. “I am here to pilgrimage for my absent husband. My name is Zhevra Cannagrrh of Pack Cannagrrh.” Then she scooped up the laptop case and slung it. “Throw the first attack if you dare though. I’ve had enough of the hatred against the Suedzuk.” The heroes were almost upon the pair standing off.

“She’s not a Corsair, old one,” called another Aekhu, a female this time. “The Red Pelt Corsairs was decades ago and every last one of them was killed where they held port by Regency and agents of the Goenghoedz. Let it go, old dog!”

She let the first fist from the grizzled Aekhu land, but not on her face. As his swing, a right cross came about, Zhevra raised the laptop case, a hard aluminum briefcase on its strap to intercept the punch. The male cried out in pain as his fisted claw collided with the case. The blow pushed on Zhevra, but she was prepared this time for its energy. Stepping back, Zhevra tried to back away from the old male but the crowds trying to get away from the pair corralled her from escape.

Two hero-priests jumped the attacking male. He snarled and protested, “She’s the Red Pelt, fools! Get her!” A brawl ensued that ended with the Aekhu being restrained and hauled away. During the tussle, Zhevra looked about her for potential second assailants. A third acolyte of Runetha Saetedz had kept the wrestling Vargr from reaching Zhevra.

“Come with me, Suedzuk,” said the Gvegh acolyte. Zhevra stepped in line behind the male as the crowd made a path for the Temple employee. Whispers of slanderous words, slang and Red Pelt, followed her as the priests regained order in the vestibule and hall.

Zhevra was quickly spirited to a side office and allowed to sit down at a chair. The acolyte, a Gvegh male near Zhevra’s age and with a dark brown fur coloration regarded her. “Not a welcoming you expected, Mrs. Cannagrrh. Sorry for that. Runetha Saetedz would have been more welcoming if he were alive today.”

“Thank you for stopping that Aekhu,” said Zhevra who took a calming, deep breath. Her left leg was trembling again, the PTSD returning.
 
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