“I appreciate that. Now I'm telling you that I've decided that will not happen. I will not allow it under any circumstances. I've earned this command, and even if you disagree with some of the choices I've made, the fact remains that they ensured the safety of this ship and its crew in a situation when your leadership wouldn't have. If you'd taken over for me on the command deck earlier, we'd have been reduced to a cluster of irradiated space junk, courtesy of a handful of rusty mining machines. So if you decide you're going to relieve me of command, you'd better bring a whole lot of other Drakon with you, and they'd better be armed to the teeth, because it will take a full-scale mutiny next time. Am I making myself clear, commander?”
“Yes sir.” The two words were combined in a single barely intelligible growl.
“Good. Now prepare a landing party, and make sure to include yourself in it. We're going back down to N-7 so we can secure the remaining slaves and ore, prevent more mining gear from falling into enemy hands – or paws, I suppose, in the case of the Pax – and establish a surface base of operations in order to dig our heels in against the insurgents. Trying to keep the planet locked down from an orbital position is obviously not a reasonable plan.”
Ranel raised an eyebrow. “And are these your orders, or the human's?”
“The idea is hers. The orders are mine. Do you have a problem with that?”
“May I ask why you want me down there with you, when as first officer, it's my responsibility to command the ship in the captain's absence?”
I smirked. “After everything that was just said between us, Ranel, I'm not especially confident you'd let me back onto this vessel once I'd left it.”
I saw an expression on Ranel's face that I'd never seen before in all the years we'd known each other: Genuine hurt. “Dashel, what happened earlier—I did it out of concern for you, that's all. Everything you've been through, the pressures you've been under...I thought you had snapped and acted accordingly. No matter how we may disagree, in these matters or any others, I hope you know I would never show such disloyalty to you.”
From anyone else in his position, I would have expected it to be a lie, just so he could get me off the ship and then take over after all. But I'd known Ranel for too long. He took his duty to the fleet seriously, but he was also too honorable and direct to engage in subterfuge. “Very well. You stay here, supervise the repair efforts, and keep us updated.”
“Yes sir.” He saluted, spun on his heel, and left.
“You can come out now,” I called in the direction of the hygiene chamber.
Natalie stepped out. “How did you know I wasn't still in the shower?”
“That would have been a very long shower, even for a female,” I observed with a grin. “Ready to return to N-7?”
“If it means preventing the Pax from retaking the planet and keeping them from killing my fellow slaves? Absolutely.”
Less than forty cleks later, the Wyvern was touching down lightly on the surface of Nort a short distance from N-7. Natalie and I marched down the retractable ramp, with four armed crew members behind us.
As we stepped off the ramp's edge onto the sandy white terrain, another tale from the Earther storyteller of my youth sprung to mind: “Treasure Island,” in which a ruthless band of pirates condemned their captives to death by forcing them to walk down a narrow wooden plank and plunge into the dark waters below.
This used to give me nightmares as a hatchling, and now, as the Wyvern lifted off again and returned to the upper stratosphere, the memory made me shudder. I hoped we'd fare better than those poor doomed sailors had.
We began to trudge toward the domes of the N-7 camp. The sand beneath us made it hard to keep our footing, and I noticed that the security personnel accompanying us were having trouble keeping their blaster rifles at the ready – they were too busy stumbling, sinking, and trying not to fall over. The wind made it worse, sending the pale grains up in whirlwinds that choked us and stung our eyes.
When we'd almost made it to the rounded entrance with its heavy blast doors, I noticed that Natalie was getting ahead of the rest of us. It made sense – she was used to getting around in this environment, and I surmised that she was eager to check on the welfare of the other people who'd been kept as slaves.
Still, it seemed like an unnecessary risk. “Natalie,” I cautioned, “maybe you shouldn't...”
But before I could finish the sentence, a short, furry white figure popped up from the sand near her position and grabbed her, pressing the barrel of a large metal device to her temple.
13
Natalie
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
I'd been so used to making my way across the dunes of Nort that I'd instinctively left the others behind, not thinking about the dangers which might have been awaiting us here. Now I was in the firm grip of a Pax with an energy weapon pressed against my ear.
Dashel and the other Drakon raised their blaster rifles, but the Pax just held me tighter, sneering. “Put your weapons down and surrender! Now, before I vaporize this female!”
“She's a human,” Dashel answered evenly. “We are Hielsrane. What makes you think we care whether she lives or dies?”
Nice bluff, Dashel, I thought, even if that's not exactly the most comforting thing for me to hear right now.
The Pax scoffed. “Don't even think of trying to deceive me, you moronic lizard! You brought her along on your mission, you aren't keeping her in restraints,
