Chapter 4
He had argued against moving into accommodations in the haven; however, like every other disagreement he had engaged in with Ke'air Masahje, he lost. The dwelling was small, similar in size to the pod's living space, yet clean and surprisingly well supplied for a community under siege. Its simple furnishings reminded him of his home as a child, mismatched and worn, but comfortable.
He eased down onto the bed and removed his boots. He was past being tired; he was numb. Bunching a pillow beneath his head, he stretched out atop the bedcover with a groan. His eyes had barely closed when a fist began to hammer the door. Although he tried to ignore it, the pounding persisted.
"Open up. We got to talk." A hand rattled the door panel, which he had made a point to latch. "Bialar, open up. It's Ke'air."
"Yes, of course it is," he grumbled, swinging his feet onto the floor.
"Would you hurry and open this door," his sister demanded.
He stayed seated on the edge of the bed for a moment, elbows on knees, head bowed, wishing he was back aboard the transport. With deliberate pause, he made his way to the door and flicked the latch. In addition to Ke'air and Toma Masahje, the twins Emone and Vyett, plus the boy Nimm spilled inside the doorway. Vyett and Nimm both carried boxes filled with an odd assortment of circuitry, coils and crystals, which they dumped onto the galley table.
"I have good news for you, Bialar," Ke'air reported.
"What would that be? You and your friends can't stay?"
Ke'air forced a single snorted laugh. "We called an assembly. Tonight at one arn past sunset the residents of Anjeluh will all gather in the Dom to listen to your talk."
"What talk?"
Nimm clapped Crais on the back. "About how we're gonna kill all the Draeg."
"What have you told these people?" he asked incredulously.
"The plan," Ke'air replied. "You said it would work."
"And did you also tell them it was too late to save themselves?"
"Oh you betcha," Nimm stated matter-of-factly. "They're gonna get us first, that's for sure. But won't those little swivel heads be surprised come next harvest season." He spread the contents of the two boxes out across the table. "I got lots of parts here from the derelicts. If there's something missing, you just say the word. Yetti, Moni and I will find it for you."
Crais picked up what appeared to be a transport refrigeration gauge and with a bemused shake of his head, dropped it back onto the table. Head tilted, he narrowed his eyes at Masahje in lieu of making any comment.
"We should probably start now to make an agenda for the meeting." Ke'air's voice grew tentative as the Sebacean continued to test him with a steely look. "Everyone will want to know their part in the plan. We should make a list . . . or something."
"By all means," Crais uttered, his words low and measured. "You go make a list, or something, while I get some sleep."
Toma Masahje shoved Ke'air aside to confront Crais. "You go filling my brother's head with all this *plan*, you have the whole haven in an uproar, and you can think only about a nap? What is wrong with you?" She did not seem bothered by his menacing look and leaned closer. "Do you ever think of anyone besides yourself?"
"Madam . . . I have more than upheld my part of our bargain. On the other hand, it is you and this halfwit you call a brother who continue to impose upon my-"
"Is that what you consider helping someone? An imposition?"
"Who you calling a halfwit?" Ke'air bristled. "I'm not the one who tried smooching up to a Draeg."
"He did what?" Emone and Vyett asked in unison.
"I was *scanning* it," Crais said through clenched teeth as he strode to the door and banged the sliding panel back. He stepped aside and gestured them toward the open doorway.
"But we ain't got our orders yet," said Nimm.
"Orders?" Crais chuckled darkly. "You want orders? I'll give you orders." No longer laughing, he aimed his finger outside the door. "Get out and stay out."
Ke'air snagged Toma by the back of her trousers before she reached him. Vyett began to throw parts back inside the boxes while the others just stood there. Nimm, who seemed puzzled, reached over to stop Vyett and then turned to Crais. "Would it be better if we came back later, after you've had your nap?"
With a gust of breath, Crais dropped his arm and stared out the doorway at the citizens of Anjeluh passing by, people who went about their lives as though they still possessed a future. They were as alien to him as the human. Yet, he fully understood the desire to die on one's feet instead of his knees. In that, they were quite the same. He glanced back over his shoulder at Ke'air, who simply raised his brow in question. Shaking his head lightly, a trace smile crossing his lips, he closed the door.
Hands clasped behind his back, he advanced to the middle of the room, feet planted slightly apart. He made a slow visual sweep of their faces.
"You are certain we can maintain contact with the other havens?"
Emone straightened to answer. "Yes . . . over one thousand."
"And you believe they will assist in this plan?"
"Damn right they will," Ke'air spoke up.
Crais' head dipped in a slow calculated nod. "I want a census of how many of your people still remain, especially those with technical, medical or military backgrounds. I want cartographs showing their proximity."
Emone glanced at her sister, who nodded. "Yetti and I will get that information."
"Equipment and transport," Crais called out next as Nimm promptly took one large stride forward. "Some of the technology necessary to create the virus and vaccine maybe available on the larger craft you called a Hawk."
"Nineteen of them left," Nimm reported. "Fifteen are airworthy."
"Anything larger?" Crais asked.
"A couple of troop transports, minimum firepower. One alpha-class carrier. Power core is shot."
"Can it be fixed?"
Nimm shrugged. "Not according to the mech in that haven, but I ain't had a look at it myself yet."
"I will need data on everything that flies and what kind of equipment is aboard. I need to know if there are any remaining facilities with sterile chambers or replication apparatus. Is that clear?"
"My microbes is working good, my brother."
Crais flinched. "My name is-"
"Bialar . . . " Nimm stated with conviction. "I did not forget. Don't you worry, you're gonna get your information." He strode purposefully out the door accompanied by Emone and Vyett.
Crais waited until they were well away before turning to the brother and sister. He folded his arms across his chest, one brow elevated, waiting for an explanation. Ke'air tweaked a grin and rubbed the back of his neck, his gaze purposely avoiding the other man's. "Yes sir, I think we got us a good start here."
Nodding slightly, Crais closed the distance between them, his expression strangely agreeable. When he was close enough to be considered too close, he stopped and returned Ke'air's tight-lipped grin. "I will need a dimensional imager, along with the data stores and shrink slides I gave you. If you don't have a portable unit, remove one from a ship and locate a power cell to operate it. Bring them here, along with the rest of the information I have requested in about five arns. I should be finished with my *nap* by then."
Ke'air worked the process out in his head, his face contorting through several distinct stages of thought. "That should work," he finally agreed. "It'll give us three arns to prepare here before the meeting, plus have our evening meal. I'll tell the others to meet here with what they've gathered. Is there anything else you need to know?"
Crais gave the pretense of thought for several microts before responding. "Yes. Why are you still here?"
At the doorway, Toma turned back and announced, "I will assist my brother."
"Cholak help him," Crais muttered, shutting the door behind them.
# # #
Crais sat between Toma and Nimm facing the curved bar inside the Domicile tent, oblivious to the elder constituents' speeches taking place in front of him. Every chair in the tent was filled and the perimeter lined with people standing. The only citizen not inside was Ke'air Masahje, whose sentence relegated him to remain just outside the doorway.
For the time and resources available to them, Emone, Vyett and Nimm had pieced together enough information for Crais to know he had precious little to work with. Of just under a half a million remaining Tah, there were perhaps only fifty with the kind of technical skills needed to create and mass manufacture the virus and the vaccine. Only six hundred members of the original military survived, the rest being volunteers like Masahje and his friends.
Still, it could work.
He would have liked more time, but time was a luxury that no one on the planet Tah had to spare. Ke'air Masahje did not know it yet, but he had unwittingly forced his hand.
As the speeches wound down, Toma touched his arm and stood. Crais came to his feet and turned to face the crowd. Once the din subsided, Toma called out his introduction in a loud, clear voice. "Bialar Crais, Sebacean, asks to address this assembly. Is there dissent?"
Immediately one man stood, older, heavyset, graying at the temples. Crais knew trouble when he saw it.
Press Dausho, " he said boldly, warily eyeing Crais. "Bialar Crais, Sebacean? Don't you mean Bialar Crais, Peacekeeper?"
"I am not a Peacekeeper," Crais replied, his words clipped and even.
His interrogator laughed and looked around, smiling broadly into the crowd. "Do you hear that? They never are." He focused back on Crais. "But you were, my friend, weren't you?"
Without hesitation, Crais replied. "Yes."
"You got the look of it," Dausho said. "All stiff backed and looking down your nose at the rest of us. Don't we got troubles enough without your kind?"
"I am here at the request of one of your fellow citizens."
"That's right, we ask him," Nimm shouted without recognition or the proper introduction.
A woman in the far back stood. "Neva Yaw . . . I say, let him talk. Talking never hurt nobody. If it did, ol' Press would a killed us all by now."
The room erupted in laughter. Even Press Dausho seemed amused. "Then say your piece, and be done with it."
Toma nodded at Crais to begin. He walked to the bar and slipped a vid chip into the imager. The resulting hologram pictured a callah, a common plant that flourished in the swamps planet wide.
"Three cycles ago, the ruling body of this planet, believing that Draegen aggression was inevitable, created a plan which they called Dark Blossom. This joint venture between the military and medical communities had been completed and was in the testing stages when the Draegen offensive occurred. Unfortunately, the men and woman who created Dark Blossom died in the initial attack. However . . . these survived." He held the vid chips up, displaying them in a slow circle for everyone in the tent to see. "The plan survived them."
Every eye in the tent was wide open and fixed on Crais. "Through a process called viral pollination, they intended to poison the atmosphere of Tah, making a Draegen occupation virtually impossible. Rhizomes injected with the virus during planting season, after lying dormant would release a mutant pollen, one so toxic that once infected, a Draegen would likely die within a weeken."
As an undertone rippled through the crowd, he raised his voice. "A vaccine to protect the citizens had also been developed."
A soldier, narrow faced with close-set eyes, stood and was recognized. "Mondo Vess. So why don't we just release this virus and kill the buggers?"
Crais nodded, having anticipated the question. "This virus is not activated until the callah's growth stage just prior to the release of pollen. It cannot be forced or duplicated outside of nature. It was planned this way so that the Draegen would not suspect duplicity on the part of the Tah, and once they did, it would be too late. The end result will not be realized for another six monens."
"Gib Scymansky." Tattered and dirty, the man looked as though he hadn't washed in cycles. Beside him, his obvious birth partner mirrored his appearance. "We only got two, three monens at best, unless you're proposing we try to hide out in the swamps."
"It is unlikely that more than a handful could survive." Crais met Ke'air's gaze, hesitated, and then turned back to the assemblage. "Which is why I propose that you must all *leave* this planet."
Half the people in the crowd sprang to their feet shouting to be recognized. From the corner of his eye, he saw Ke'air flagging his arms to draw his attention. Crais raised both hands, motioning the people back to their seats. "I was granted permission to speak, I ask only that you hear me out. If the Tah, united as a people, can sew the seeds of the Draegens' destruction, then as a people, they can also coordinate one final massive effort to leave. It is likely that some of you will survive. A cycle from now, those Tah could reclaim their homes."
Ke'air paced the outside doorway like a cage animal. Toma pointed at Press Dausho's son, also a soldier. "Tenis Dausho . . . even if we could get away, where would we go?"
"Tarn," Crais replied in a bold and powerful voice. "It is sparsely populated by a people such as you, refugees from oppression. I believe they could be made to understand your plight. In addition to that, your stay would be only temporary."
"So, are they going to come and get us too?" a voice called out.
Crais replaced the vid chip with another that displayed a compilation of the vessels provided by Nimm. "Individually the havens are defenseless. The Draegen will continue to eliminate several more thousand people each and every night until you are all dead, every man, woman and child. Less than half a million of your people still survive. Yet once the virus is in place and the military coordinated, you still have the means to flee this planet."
"They will shoot us down like a flock of trelkez," shouted Press Dausho.
"And if you *stay* they will hunt you down like dogs," Crais snarled back. He paced, his hands measuring each word in front of him. "One massive launch . . . one launch made simultaneously by all the remaining ships. You will have the element of surprise. By my calculations, the Draegen are a predictable enemy, constricted by their penchant for night attack and their reliance on unmanned surveillance. It is sheer numbers that makes them formidable."
"Hezmana of a choice," a man standing in the back row called out. "Die here in our homes or die up there."
"Make no mistake, your casualties will be substantial, perhaps as high as eighty to ninety percent. Still, if only ten percent survive, in one cycle, forty thousand of your race can return to start again. If you stay, you will all die."
Anjeluh's Elder constituent Elay Sabad struggled to his feet. A slight elevation of one hand was enough to bring about complete silence inside the tent. At 187 cycles, he was the oldest and most respected resident of the haven. With his head so bent from age that it nearly laid on his shoulder, Elay's eyes turned up to meet Crais' before addressing the constituents. "Once this information is verified, we will meet again to discuss its merit." He shuffled a quarter turn to face the Sebacean, his bottom lip pushed forward in thought. "That's assuming you can prove what you say."
Crais offered a vellum folder to the old man. "These are the names and locations of those who are capable of verifying the information on the chips Ke'air Masahje and I recovered from Shuleye-Shulah. I will also require their assistance."
Elay Sabad motioned Toma to take the folder. She helped the Elder back to his seat and then took Crais by the arm and escorted him to the entrance. Ke'air met him chest to chest, just outside the Domicile. "We got us some talking to do," was all he said. He turned and walked away in the direction of Crais' quarters.
"Stay here," Crais admonished Toma and strode after her brother.
Both men maintained a brisk pace and arrived at his lodging without a word. Ke'air moved to the far side of the room and stood with his back to him. Crais positioned himself in the middle of the hut. "I believe we were going to have a talk."
Ke'air turned with a bit of a smirk. The big man threw the straight right hand just as Crais had anticipated. He ducked to his left and caught him with a solid pantak kick to the chest that sent his opponent flying backward onto the galley table, collapsing it in pieces beneath him. Ke'air scrambled to his feet and launched himself, catching Crais with his shoulder in the midsection. Crais rolled and sprang upright. He backed away, picking up one of the splintered table legs and pointing it threateningly at Ke'air. "Do not tell me you won't leap at a chance to get out of here alive."
Ke'air circled at a distance, both hands curled into fists. "And don't tell me that you're not using my people as a shield for your own escape."
The words stung him. He tossed the club aside. "Is that what you think," he asked, hands at his side, no longer making an effort to defend himself.
His brow puckered in thought, Ke'air's stance relaxed. Hands on hips, he surveyed the damage to the room and then with a heavy sigh and shake of his head, looked to Crais. "You should have told me first."
"It was *you* who scheduled this meeting without consulting me."
His expression acknowledged that fact. "Yes, but I didn't know you was going to pull a brand new plan out of your eema."
"The idea was no more than a passing thought during our meeting earlier today." Crais closed the distance between them. "But that thought sprouted and took shape. Suddenly, an opportunity presented itself. With time being an issue, I felt it in our best interest to act."
"So you think there is a chance?"
"Nimm estimates your present military strength at 112 ships, mostly Astras. If he is correct-"
"If Nimm says it, it is so."
"Your military is forfeit. It will not take the Draegen long to finish them, but I believe it will be sufficient time to allow some of the civilian vessels to escape to Tarn airspace. Whether the Draegen will pursue them there is still unknown."
"Forfeit?" The young man grimaced. "You make it sound like the loss of a game piece in Tadek, instead of flesh and blood. Is that the Peacekeeper way?"
Crais shrugged off the comment. "Sometimes it is the only way."
# # #
It was late and Crais was already preparing for bed when Toma arrived. She was out of breath and hurried to warm herself beside the fire.
"The elders have called a meeting. The havens have all responded."
He pulled on a shirt and sat down at the end of the bed, a pair of socks in hand. "Where's Ke'air?"
"Over at Moni's, getting a bounce. Don't worry, he'll be there." There was a hint of irritation in her voice as she glanced around the room. "Are you alone?"
"She's under the bed," he replied quietly, trying not to smile.
She retrieved his boots from across the room and dropped them in front of him. "It wouldn't be the first bed she's hid under. She's plenty free with it, you know."
"So your brother tells me."
Her eyes narrowed. "What else did my brother tell you?"
"That Tah women ask too many questions." Crais stepped into his boots and went to the dresser after a hairbrush. She took the brush from him and motioned him into one of the galley chairs.
"I hear them talking, Bialar. I know what's going to happen."
"Then you obviously know more than I do."
"My brother is not a soldier. He does not belong in one of those ships." She carefully smoothed his hair back as she spoke, using a leather strip to wrap and bind it. "Mondo's the only original crewmember left from the Hawk. Moni and Yetti both flew Astras, plus a few of the others. Nimm learned from his papa.
"It is not my decision to make. If I know your brother, he's going to insist on doing his duty."
"Do you know what his job was before the Draeg attacked and he decided to become a soldier? He flew an airbus between Shuleye-Shulah and the surrounding havens. Day trips."
Crais twisted around to see her face. "An airbus?"
"The only thing he ever shot at in his whole life was vermin in the swamp."
He crossed the room after his coat, pausing to consider the irony of the situation. She had not been afraid to die, but the thought of losing her brother, her only family, terrified her. He understood now. At the doorway he stopped and regarded her with a bemused expression. "A bus driver?"
"A bus driver," she repeated, braving a smile.
They joined the stream of people moving swiftly toward the Dom. Ke'air and Emone were already waiting outside the door when they arrived. As they approached, Ke'air backed away from the entry and chucked his head at Crais to follow. Toma and Emone went inside, leaving the two men to talk.
"The havens have all reported. There was dissent. I don't know how much."
"It's not as though they have an alternative," Crais replied, irritated that it had taken five days for a decision to be reached. "Either way, I still intend to leave. You will have to make your own choice."
He nodded. "You better get in there. It looks like they're ready." Ke'air took up his position outside the doorway. Crais strode to the front row and took his seat between Toma and Nimm. Grett Sabad, oldest midborn child of Elay Sabad, helped her father to the bar.
"Decision's been made," he called out. "We're gonna kill those swivel heads for what they done and then we're leaving." Cheers erupted throughout the tent as the old man raised a gnarled fist in the air, his mouth twisted into a grin. Crais stoically endured a round of backslapping from those around him, much to Toma's amusement. The crowd quickly quieted as Sabad turned his attention to the Sebacean, wagging his fingers at him to approach. "Son, you tell 'em what you and the others been up to."
Crais moved to stand beside the old man, pausing to establish eye contact with Ke'air. "We have continued to plan our escape in anticipation of this favorable response. The following individuals will delegate work assignments. Emone and Vyett will coordinate communications between the havens. Mondo Vess and Tenis Dauscho will procure supplies and arrange transport. Nimm will oversee ships' maintenance." He paced the length of the bar, scanning the crowd for reaction. "Toma Masahje is in charge of infecting the callah rhizomes. Neva Yaw will distribute the vaccine. Ke'air Masahje and I will share responsibility for tactical planning of the launch."
He nodded at Toma, who promptly stepped up beside him at the bar. "We plan to inject a thousand callah surrounding Anjeluh. The other havens will do the same. The plants will have a better survival rate if we leave them in the ground. That means locating the rhizomes beneath the water and injecting them under the water's surface. I figure twenty of us can do them all in a day or two, but it's going to be a wet and dirty job."
The Scymansky brothers stood first, prompting a ripple of laughter. "We'll sure help you, Toma," Gib said with a grin. "But me and Cam are planning to stay and take our chances here in the swamp."
"That's your choice, Gib," Elay Sabat replied. "No one's being forced to do nothing or go nowhere. Those who want to stay got that right. The rest of us will do what we can to help you out."
Press Dauscho came to his feet. "And what if we don't want to take orders from this one or Masahje?"
"Then you're welcome to remain behind," Crais answered promptly, his chin raised defiantly. "Or if you chose, once the ships launch you can break away from the fleet and try to make it on your own." By now he was standing toe to toe with Dauscho. "The only thing you will *not* do is jeopardize the chances of the rest of these people."
"You talk pretty big for an outsider, especially one with the likes of him for a partner." Tenis Dauscho reached for his father's arm, but the older man knocked the son's hand aside. "Or maybe you don't know who it is you're working with."
"That's enough, Press," Sabad warned. "Don't you start disagreeing until you got something to disagree with. We'll make sure the plan's a fair one."
The two men locked eyes, neither willing to let it go. Only when Tenis pulled his father backward into the seat of the chair did Crais retreat a couple of steps, turn and return to the bar.
"How long we got?" someone asked.
"The virus and the vaccine will be produced aboard the alpha-class carrier Orion. Although not flight worthy, the Orion possesses a well-equipped lab. Technicians and the required raw materials are currently en route there. The finished bacterial strain and vaccine should be ready to distribute to the havens in four solar days. Once the rhizomes have been infected and any vessels deployed to accommodate transporting all those who wish to go, we'll be ready." Crais paused and cast a stern eye across the crowd. "Barring any delays, I anticipate launch in seven, possibly eight days."
Hundreds of people shouted at once, the very reaction Crais had expected.
"Forty eight havens have disappeared in the last five days," his voice roared over the commotion. "Nearly twenty thousand more people are dead or unaccounted for."
"Let him finish," Elay Sabad called out.
"The noose is tightening. Havens will continue to disappear at an accelerated rate as the circle closes. We can anticipate their route and transport some people to safety, but each day we wait lessens our chances of survival. Your estimates of two monens before the Draegen reach Anjeluh are misinformed. You have three weekens at best."
"Bialar Crais is right," Ke'air shouted from the doorway. "There's more of them showing up every day. You hear the Firebugs flying over at night, twice as many as before. Maybe we got us a little more time here, but them folks living in the bush belt havens are out of time. We've got to go and we've got to go now."
There was a great deal of conversation taking place inside the tent now, husbands talking to their wives, parents to their children. Elay Sabad motioned Crais to his chair. As he approached, the leaders of the five teams formed a tight circle around them. "Time for talking is done," the old man said, giving Crais a hard look. "We'll do what we have to do. You and your people move as fast as you can."
He had argued against moving into accommodations in the haven; however, like every other disagreement he had engaged in with Ke'air Masahje, he lost. The dwelling was small, similar in size to the pod's living space, yet clean and surprisingly well supplied for a community under siege. Its simple furnishings reminded him of his home as a child, mismatched and worn, but comfortable.
He eased down onto the bed and removed his boots. He was past being tired; he was numb. Bunching a pillow beneath his head, he stretched out atop the bedcover with a groan. His eyes had barely closed when a fist began to hammer the door. Although he tried to ignore it, the pounding persisted.
"Open up. We got to talk." A hand rattled the door panel, which he had made a point to latch. "Bialar, open up. It's Ke'air."
"Yes, of course it is," he grumbled, swinging his feet onto the floor.
"Would you hurry and open this door," his sister demanded.
He stayed seated on the edge of the bed for a moment, elbows on knees, head bowed, wishing he was back aboard the transport. With deliberate pause, he made his way to the door and flicked the latch. In addition to Ke'air and Toma Masahje, the twins Emone and Vyett, plus the boy Nimm spilled inside the doorway. Vyett and Nimm both carried boxes filled with an odd assortment of circuitry, coils and crystals, which they dumped onto the galley table.
"I have good news for you, Bialar," Ke'air reported.
"What would that be? You and your friends can't stay?"
Ke'air forced a single snorted laugh. "We called an assembly. Tonight at one arn past sunset the residents of Anjeluh will all gather in the Dom to listen to your talk."
"What talk?"
Nimm clapped Crais on the back. "About how we're gonna kill all the Draeg."
"What have you told these people?" he asked incredulously.
"The plan," Ke'air replied. "You said it would work."
"And did you also tell them it was too late to save themselves?"
"Oh you betcha," Nimm stated matter-of-factly. "They're gonna get us first, that's for sure. But won't those little swivel heads be surprised come next harvest season." He spread the contents of the two boxes out across the table. "I got lots of parts here from the derelicts. If there's something missing, you just say the word. Yetti, Moni and I will find it for you."
Crais picked up what appeared to be a transport refrigeration gauge and with a bemused shake of his head, dropped it back onto the table. Head tilted, he narrowed his eyes at Masahje in lieu of making any comment.
"We should probably start now to make an agenda for the meeting." Ke'air's voice grew tentative as the Sebacean continued to test him with a steely look. "Everyone will want to know their part in the plan. We should make a list . . . or something."
"By all means," Crais uttered, his words low and measured. "You go make a list, or something, while I get some sleep."
Toma Masahje shoved Ke'air aside to confront Crais. "You go filling my brother's head with all this *plan*, you have the whole haven in an uproar, and you can think only about a nap? What is wrong with you?" She did not seem bothered by his menacing look and leaned closer. "Do you ever think of anyone besides yourself?"
"Madam . . . I have more than upheld my part of our bargain. On the other hand, it is you and this halfwit you call a brother who continue to impose upon my-"
"Is that what you consider helping someone? An imposition?"
"Who you calling a halfwit?" Ke'air bristled. "I'm not the one who tried smooching up to a Draeg."
"He did what?" Emone and Vyett asked in unison.
"I was *scanning* it," Crais said through clenched teeth as he strode to the door and banged the sliding panel back. He stepped aside and gestured them toward the open doorway.
"But we ain't got our orders yet," said Nimm.
"Orders?" Crais chuckled darkly. "You want orders? I'll give you orders." No longer laughing, he aimed his finger outside the door. "Get out and stay out."
Ke'air snagged Toma by the back of her trousers before she reached him. Vyett began to throw parts back inside the boxes while the others just stood there. Nimm, who seemed puzzled, reached over to stop Vyett and then turned to Crais. "Would it be better if we came back later, after you've had your nap?"
With a gust of breath, Crais dropped his arm and stared out the doorway at the citizens of Anjeluh passing by, people who went about their lives as though they still possessed a future. They were as alien to him as the human. Yet, he fully understood the desire to die on one's feet instead of his knees. In that, they were quite the same. He glanced back over his shoulder at Ke'air, who simply raised his brow in question. Shaking his head lightly, a trace smile crossing his lips, he closed the door.
Hands clasped behind his back, he advanced to the middle of the room, feet planted slightly apart. He made a slow visual sweep of their faces.
"You are certain we can maintain contact with the other havens?"
Emone straightened to answer. "Yes . . . over one thousand."
"And you believe they will assist in this plan?"
"Damn right they will," Ke'air spoke up.
Crais' head dipped in a slow calculated nod. "I want a census of how many of your people still remain, especially those with technical, medical or military backgrounds. I want cartographs showing their proximity."
Emone glanced at her sister, who nodded. "Yetti and I will get that information."
"Equipment and transport," Crais called out next as Nimm promptly took one large stride forward. "Some of the technology necessary to create the virus and vaccine maybe available on the larger craft you called a Hawk."
"Nineteen of them left," Nimm reported. "Fifteen are airworthy."
"Anything larger?" Crais asked.
"A couple of troop transports, minimum firepower. One alpha-class carrier. Power core is shot."
"Can it be fixed?"
Nimm shrugged. "Not according to the mech in that haven, but I ain't had a look at it myself yet."
"I will need data on everything that flies and what kind of equipment is aboard. I need to know if there are any remaining facilities with sterile chambers or replication apparatus. Is that clear?"
"My microbes is working good, my brother."
Crais flinched. "My name is-"
"Bialar . . . " Nimm stated with conviction. "I did not forget. Don't you worry, you're gonna get your information." He strode purposefully out the door accompanied by Emone and Vyett.
Crais waited until they were well away before turning to the brother and sister. He folded his arms across his chest, one brow elevated, waiting for an explanation. Ke'air tweaked a grin and rubbed the back of his neck, his gaze purposely avoiding the other man's. "Yes sir, I think we got us a good start here."
Nodding slightly, Crais closed the distance between them, his expression strangely agreeable. When he was close enough to be considered too close, he stopped and returned Ke'air's tight-lipped grin. "I will need a dimensional imager, along with the data stores and shrink slides I gave you. If you don't have a portable unit, remove one from a ship and locate a power cell to operate it. Bring them here, along with the rest of the information I have requested in about five arns. I should be finished with my *nap* by then."
Ke'air worked the process out in his head, his face contorting through several distinct stages of thought. "That should work," he finally agreed. "It'll give us three arns to prepare here before the meeting, plus have our evening meal. I'll tell the others to meet here with what they've gathered. Is there anything else you need to know?"
Crais gave the pretense of thought for several microts before responding. "Yes. Why are you still here?"
At the doorway, Toma turned back and announced, "I will assist my brother."
"Cholak help him," Crais muttered, shutting the door behind them.
# # #
Crais sat between Toma and Nimm facing the curved bar inside the Domicile tent, oblivious to the elder constituents' speeches taking place in front of him. Every chair in the tent was filled and the perimeter lined with people standing. The only citizen not inside was Ke'air Masahje, whose sentence relegated him to remain just outside the doorway.
For the time and resources available to them, Emone, Vyett and Nimm had pieced together enough information for Crais to know he had precious little to work with. Of just under a half a million remaining Tah, there were perhaps only fifty with the kind of technical skills needed to create and mass manufacture the virus and the vaccine. Only six hundred members of the original military survived, the rest being volunteers like Masahje and his friends.
Still, it could work.
He would have liked more time, but time was a luxury that no one on the planet Tah had to spare. Ke'air Masahje did not know it yet, but he had unwittingly forced his hand.
As the speeches wound down, Toma touched his arm and stood. Crais came to his feet and turned to face the crowd. Once the din subsided, Toma called out his introduction in a loud, clear voice. "Bialar Crais, Sebacean, asks to address this assembly. Is there dissent?"
Immediately one man stood, older, heavyset, graying at the temples. Crais knew trouble when he saw it.
Press Dausho, " he said boldly, warily eyeing Crais. "Bialar Crais, Sebacean? Don't you mean Bialar Crais, Peacekeeper?"
"I am not a Peacekeeper," Crais replied, his words clipped and even.
His interrogator laughed and looked around, smiling broadly into the crowd. "Do you hear that? They never are." He focused back on Crais. "But you were, my friend, weren't you?"
Without hesitation, Crais replied. "Yes."
"You got the look of it," Dausho said. "All stiff backed and looking down your nose at the rest of us. Don't we got troubles enough without your kind?"
"I am here at the request of one of your fellow citizens."
"That's right, we ask him," Nimm shouted without recognition or the proper introduction.
A woman in the far back stood. "Neva Yaw . . . I say, let him talk. Talking never hurt nobody. If it did, ol' Press would a killed us all by now."
The room erupted in laughter. Even Press Dausho seemed amused. "Then say your piece, and be done with it."
Toma nodded at Crais to begin. He walked to the bar and slipped a vid chip into the imager. The resulting hologram pictured a callah, a common plant that flourished in the swamps planet wide.
"Three cycles ago, the ruling body of this planet, believing that Draegen aggression was inevitable, created a plan which they called Dark Blossom. This joint venture between the military and medical communities had been completed and was in the testing stages when the Draegen offensive occurred. Unfortunately, the men and woman who created Dark Blossom died in the initial attack. However . . . these survived." He held the vid chips up, displaying them in a slow circle for everyone in the tent to see. "The plan survived them."
Every eye in the tent was wide open and fixed on Crais. "Through a process called viral pollination, they intended to poison the atmosphere of Tah, making a Draegen occupation virtually impossible. Rhizomes injected with the virus during planting season, after lying dormant would release a mutant pollen, one so toxic that once infected, a Draegen would likely die within a weeken."
As an undertone rippled through the crowd, he raised his voice. "A vaccine to protect the citizens had also been developed."
A soldier, narrow faced with close-set eyes, stood and was recognized. "Mondo Vess. So why don't we just release this virus and kill the buggers?"
Crais nodded, having anticipated the question. "This virus is not activated until the callah's growth stage just prior to the release of pollen. It cannot be forced or duplicated outside of nature. It was planned this way so that the Draegen would not suspect duplicity on the part of the Tah, and once they did, it would be too late. The end result will not be realized for another six monens."
"Gib Scymansky." Tattered and dirty, the man looked as though he hadn't washed in cycles. Beside him, his obvious birth partner mirrored his appearance. "We only got two, three monens at best, unless you're proposing we try to hide out in the swamps."
"It is unlikely that more than a handful could survive." Crais met Ke'air's gaze, hesitated, and then turned back to the assemblage. "Which is why I propose that you must all *leave* this planet."
Half the people in the crowd sprang to their feet shouting to be recognized. From the corner of his eye, he saw Ke'air flagging his arms to draw his attention. Crais raised both hands, motioning the people back to their seats. "I was granted permission to speak, I ask only that you hear me out. If the Tah, united as a people, can sew the seeds of the Draegens' destruction, then as a people, they can also coordinate one final massive effort to leave. It is likely that some of you will survive. A cycle from now, those Tah could reclaim their homes."
Ke'air paced the outside doorway like a cage animal. Toma pointed at Press Dausho's son, also a soldier. "Tenis Dausho . . . even if we could get away, where would we go?"
"Tarn," Crais replied in a bold and powerful voice. "It is sparsely populated by a people such as you, refugees from oppression. I believe they could be made to understand your plight. In addition to that, your stay would be only temporary."
"So, are they going to come and get us too?" a voice called out.
Crais replaced the vid chip with another that displayed a compilation of the vessels provided by Nimm. "Individually the havens are defenseless. The Draegen will continue to eliminate several more thousand people each and every night until you are all dead, every man, woman and child. Less than half a million of your people still survive. Yet once the virus is in place and the military coordinated, you still have the means to flee this planet."
"They will shoot us down like a flock of trelkez," shouted Press Dausho.
"And if you *stay* they will hunt you down like dogs," Crais snarled back. He paced, his hands measuring each word in front of him. "One massive launch . . . one launch made simultaneously by all the remaining ships. You will have the element of surprise. By my calculations, the Draegen are a predictable enemy, constricted by their penchant for night attack and their reliance on unmanned surveillance. It is sheer numbers that makes them formidable."
"Hezmana of a choice," a man standing in the back row called out. "Die here in our homes or die up there."
"Make no mistake, your casualties will be substantial, perhaps as high as eighty to ninety percent. Still, if only ten percent survive, in one cycle, forty thousand of your race can return to start again. If you stay, you will all die."
Anjeluh's Elder constituent Elay Sabad struggled to his feet. A slight elevation of one hand was enough to bring about complete silence inside the tent. At 187 cycles, he was the oldest and most respected resident of the haven. With his head so bent from age that it nearly laid on his shoulder, Elay's eyes turned up to meet Crais' before addressing the constituents. "Once this information is verified, we will meet again to discuss its merit." He shuffled a quarter turn to face the Sebacean, his bottom lip pushed forward in thought. "That's assuming you can prove what you say."
Crais offered a vellum folder to the old man. "These are the names and locations of those who are capable of verifying the information on the chips Ke'air Masahje and I recovered from Shuleye-Shulah. I will also require their assistance."
Elay Sabad motioned Toma to take the folder. She helped the Elder back to his seat and then took Crais by the arm and escorted him to the entrance. Ke'air met him chest to chest, just outside the Domicile. "We got us some talking to do," was all he said. He turned and walked away in the direction of Crais' quarters.
"Stay here," Crais admonished Toma and strode after her brother.
Both men maintained a brisk pace and arrived at his lodging without a word. Ke'air moved to the far side of the room and stood with his back to him. Crais positioned himself in the middle of the hut. "I believe we were going to have a talk."
Ke'air turned with a bit of a smirk. The big man threw the straight right hand just as Crais had anticipated. He ducked to his left and caught him with a solid pantak kick to the chest that sent his opponent flying backward onto the galley table, collapsing it in pieces beneath him. Ke'air scrambled to his feet and launched himself, catching Crais with his shoulder in the midsection. Crais rolled and sprang upright. He backed away, picking up one of the splintered table legs and pointing it threateningly at Ke'air. "Do not tell me you won't leap at a chance to get out of here alive."
Ke'air circled at a distance, both hands curled into fists. "And don't tell me that you're not using my people as a shield for your own escape."
The words stung him. He tossed the club aside. "Is that what you think," he asked, hands at his side, no longer making an effort to defend himself.
His brow puckered in thought, Ke'air's stance relaxed. Hands on hips, he surveyed the damage to the room and then with a heavy sigh and shake of his head, looked to Crais. "You should have told me first."
"It was *you* who scheduled this meeting without consulting me."
His expression acknowledged that fact. "Yes, but I didn't know you was going to pull a brand new plan out of your eema."
"The idea was no more than a passing thought during our meeting earlier today." Crais closed the distance between them. "But that thought sprouted and took shape. Suddenly, an opportunity presented itself. With time being an issue, I felt it in our best interest to act."
"So you think there is a chance?"
"Nimm estimates your present military strength at 112 ships, mostly Astras. If he is correct-"
"If Nimm says it, it is so."
"Your military is forfeit. It will not take the Draegen long to finish them, but I believe it will be sufficient time to allow some of the civilian vessels to escape to Tarn airspace. Whether the Draegen will pursue them there is still unknown."
"Forfeit?" The young man grimaced. "You make it sound like the loss of a game piece in Tadek, instead of flesh and blood. Is that the Peacekeeper way?"
Crais shrugged off the comment. "Sometimes it is the only way."
# # #
It was late and Crais was already preparing for bed when Toma arrived. She was out of breath and hurried to warm herself beside the fire.
"The elders have called a meeting. The havens have all responded."
He pulled on a shirt and sat down at the end of the bed, a pair of socks in hand. "Where's Ke'air?"
"Over at Moni's, getting a bounce. Don't worry, he'll be there." There was a hint of irritation in her voice as she glanced around the room. "Are you alone?"
"She's under the bed," he replied quietly, trying not to smile.
She retrieved his boots from across the room and dropped them in front of him. "It wouldn't be the first bed she's hid under. She's plenty free with it, you know."
"So your brother tells me."
Her eyes narrowed. "What else did my brother tell you?"
"That Tah women ask too many questions." Crais stepped into his boots and went to the dresser after a hairbrush. She took the brush from him and motioned him into one of the galley chairs.
"I hear them talking, Bialar. I know what's going to happen."
"Then you obviously know more than I do."
"My brother is not a soldier. He does not belong in one of those ships." She carefully smoothed his hair back as she spoke, using a leather strip to wrap and bind it. "Mondo's the only original crewmember left from the Hawk. Moni and Yetti both flew Astras, plus a few of the others. Nimm learned from his papa.
"It is not my decision to make. If I know your brother, he's going to insist on doing his duty."
"Do you know what his job was before the Draeg attacked and he decided to become a soldier? He flew an airbus between Shuleye-Shulah and the surrounding havens. Day trips."
Crais twisted around to see her face. "An airbus?"
"The only thing he ever shot at in his whole life was vermin in the swamp."
He crossed the room after his coat, pausing to consider the irony of the situation. She had not been afraid to die, but the thought of losing her brother, her only family, terrified her. He understood now. At the doorway he stopped and regarded her with a bemused expression. "A bus driver?"
"A bus driver," she repeated, braving a smile.
They joined the stream of people moving swiftly toward the Dom. Ke'air and Emone were already waiting outside the door when they arrived. As they approached, Ke'air backed away from the entry and chucked his head at Crais to follow. Toma and Emone went inside, leaving the two men to talk.
"The havens have all reported. There was dissent. I don't know how much."
"It's not as though they have an alternative," Crais replied, irritated that it had taken five days for a decision to be reached. "Either way, I still intend to leave. You will have to make your own choice."
He nodded. "You better get in there. It looks like they're ready." Ke'air took up his position outside the doorway. Crais strode to the front row and took his seat between Toma and Nimm. Grett Sabad, oldest midborn child of Elay Sabad, helped her father to the bar.
"Decision's been made," he called out. "We're gonna kill those swivel heads for what they done and then we're leaving." Cheers erupted throughout the tent as the old man raised a gnarled fist in the air, his mouth twisted into a grin. Crais stoically endured a round of backslapping from those around him, much to Toma's amusement. The crowd quickly quieted as Sabad turned his attention to the Sebacean, wagging his fingers at him to approach. "Son, you tell 'em what you and the others been up to."
Crais moved to stand beside the old man, pausing to establish eye contact with Ke'air. "We have continued to plan our escape in anticipation of this favorable response. The following individuals will delegate work assignments. Emone and Vyett will coordinate communications between the havens. Mondo Vess and Tenis Dauscho will procure supplies and arrange transport. Nimm will oversee ships' maintenance." He paced the length of the bar, scanning the crowd for reaction. "Toma Masahje is in charge of infecting the callah rhizomes. Neva Yaw will distribute the vaccine. Ke'air Masahje and I will share responsibility for tactical planning of the launch."
He nodded at Toma, who promptly stepped up beside him at the bar. "We plan to inject a thousand callah surrounding Anjeluh. The other havens will do the same. The plants will have a better survival rate if we leave them in the ground. That means locating the rhizomes beneath the water and injecting them under the water's surface. I figure twenty of us can do them all in a day or two, but it's going to be a wet and dirty job."
The Scymansky brothers stood first, prompting a ripple of laughter. "We'll sure help you, Toma," Gib said with a grin. "But me and Cam are planning to stay and take our chances here in the swamp."
"That's your choice, Gib," Elay Sabat replied. "No one's being forced to do nothing or go nowhere. Those who want to stay got that right. The rest of us will do what we can to help you out."
Press Dauscho came to his feet. "And what if we don't want to take orders from this one or Masahje?"
"Then you're welcome to remain behind," Crais answered promptly, his chin raised defiantly. "Or if you chose, once the ships launch you can break away from the fleet and try to make it on your own." By now he was standing toe to toe with Dauscho. "The only thing you will *not* do is jeopardize the chances of the rest of these people."
"You talk pretty big for an outsider, especially one with the likes of him for a partner." Tenis Dauscho reached for his father's arm, but the older man knocked the son's hand aside. "Or maybe you don't know who it is you're working with."
"That's enough, Press," Sabad warned. "Don't you start disagreeing until you got something to disagree with. We'll make sure the plan's a fair one."
The two men locked eyes, neither willing to let it go. Only when Tenis pulled his father backward into the seat of the chair did Crais retreat a couple of steps, turn and return to the bar.
"How long we got?" someone asked.
"The virus and the vaccine will be produced aboard the alpha-class carrier Orion. Although not flight worthy, the Orion possesses a well-equipped lab. Technicians and the required raw materials are currently en route there. The finished bacterial strain and vaccine should be ready to distribute to the havens in four solar days. Once the rhizomes have been infected and any vessels deployed to accommodate transporting all those who wish to go, we'll be ready." Crais paused and cast a stern eye across the crowd. "Barring any delays, I anticipate launch in seven, possibly eight days."
Hundreds of people shouted at once, the very reaction Crais had expected.
"Forty eight havens have disappeared in the last five days," his voice roared over the commotion. "Nearly twenty thousand more people are dead or unaccounted for."
"Let him finish," Elay Sabad called out.
"The noose is tightening. Havens will continue to disappear at an accelerated rate as the circle closes. We can anticipate their route and transport some people to safety, but each day we wait lessens our chances of survival. Your estimates of two monens before the Draegen reach Anjeluh are misinformed. You have three weekens at best."
"Bialar Crais is right," Ke'air shouted from the doorway. "There's more of them showing up every day. You hear the Firebugs flying over at night, twice as many as before. Maybe we got us a little more time here, but them folks living in the bush belt havens are out of time. We've got to go and we've got to go now."
There was a great deal of conversation taking place inside the tent now, husbands talking to their wives, parents to their children. Elay Sabad motioned Crais to his chair. As he approached, the leaders of the five teams formed a tight circle around them. "Time for talking is done," the old man said, giving Crais a hard look. "We'll do what we have to do. You and your people move as fast as you can."