It had been constructed to resemble Gyygnar, the unstoppable, two-headed, six-winged draconic beast featured in some of Thirren's oldest and darkest legends.
If I hadn't been so relieved by its arrival, I'd have been deeply intimidated by its appearance, to say the least. Like all other hatchlings on Thirren, I'd had frequent nightmares about Gyygnar, and in them, that was exactly how he'd looked.
Tarion appeared on our vidscreen, smiling. “Beautiful, isn't she? When we realized we couldn't avoid the Alliance blockade to get here, we figured we'd better bring something that could just smash through it instead. The fleet's been working on the Gyygnar prototype for two years. This seemed like the perfect excuse to give her a test run.”
“Thanks for saving our tails, Tarion,” I said, breathing a sigh of relief. “I owe you one.”
“Yeah, well, you'll have plenty of time to polish my scales later. For now, let's deal with the rest of the Alliance scum. Then our fighter craft and shock troops can comb the planet for any hidden Alliance threats, and we can finally plant our flag on this mudball once and for all.”
Tarion's image left the screen, and the Gyygnar heaved through space toward the other enemy ships. The Pax's sensors must have been working just fine – one quick scan of the Hielsrane dreadnought and they scattered, turning to flee.
The booming voice filled our comm array ominously one last time: “You may have won today with your shiny new toy, you diseased reptiles, but know this – we'll be back to take what's ours, and soon.”
Then their engine nacelles flared briefly, and they were gone.
19
Natalie
“I don't care about their weapons systems, I don't care about their armor, and I don't care how many damn shock troops and fighter craft they're carrying,” Stal snapped at Dashel. “I don't even care if they can transform into a fully automated orchestra of sexbots and toot a rousing chorus of The Dragon's Merry March in E Flat Minor. After weeks of working nonstop to patch up injured slaves and crew members, all I want to know is, do they have medical facilities and personnel to take over so I can finally get a few hours of sleep?”
“Yes, yes, we're sending all of your patients over there now!” Dashel laughed. “Do you have any tranquilizers left in your med kit?”
Stal balked. “A ship that size, and you're telling me they didn't even bother to bring their own tranquilizers?”
“Not for them, Stal, for you. You should inject yourself with one. Hell, you should probably inject yourself with three or four. Now go get some rest.”
Stal went to leave – then hesitated, hovering in the doorway. “These healers of theirs...you're sure they know what they're doing?”
“They're supposed to be some of the best in the fleet.”
The doctor scoffed. “Well, that's setting a fairly low bar. Perhaps I should go over there with the patients, just to inspect their equipment and make sure they—”
“Go to your quarters, Stal! That's an order!”
As Stal stomped off, I tried not to giggle. We were all feeling a little punchy after coming within a hair's breadth of being blown to bits – not just once, but twice. Based on the reports from Tarion's fighters on Nort's surface, the Pax insurgency was being routed. Every mining colony had been firmly secured, and the Alliance members who were previously at large had all either surrendered or been killed. Nort, with all of its mines, precious ore, and equipment, finally belonged to the Hielsrane.
About two-thirds of the slaves had died during the Alliance assault. That made me sad, but at least they'd perished fighting for their freedom instead of down in the mines.
Which made me think of Daniel. Which made me think of Earth.
“Dashel?” I asked. “Would it be possible for us to have a moment alone?”
“Of course!” he said happily, leading me to his cabin. “I realize we haven't had a lot of time to enjoy each other's company over the past week or so, with all the training and rebuilding and fighting down on the surface. But now that the war is won, we can finally take a few deep breaths, relax, and celebrate!”
When the door shut behind us, he went to a cabinet, removing a vivid green bottle and two glasses. “Have you ever had Andaluusican nectar wine? No, sorry, of course you haven't. I doubt the Pax gave that out to the slaves in the mines at mealtime. Well, suffice it to say, you're in for a treat. Try not to drink it too quickly, though. It's powerful stuff.” He poured some out, handing it to me.
I took a sip, then tried to keep from coughing and spitting it out. To me, it tasted like moldy oranges fermented in battery acid, but Dashel had already drained his glass and was pouring another for himself.
“Thank you,” I wheezed, setting the glass down.
“So, what's on your mind?”
“Our deal.” I sat down in a floating pillow-chair which instantly molded to the contours of my body – it had become my favorite piece of furniture in his cabin over the past week. “Now that the battle is over and Nort's in the clutches of your dragon friends, we should let the slaves who survived know that they're finally free, and arrange off-world transport for them as soon as possible. God knows they've earned it.”
Dashel shifted uncomfortably. “Yes, well...we can see to that at some point soon, certainly. Once I've had a chance to make that request to Tarion and he's granted his approval...”
I
