“There is no greater fear than the
possibility of losing a child.”
–Renna Dell, First
Bellerophon Landing Party
Harenn’s chair crashed to the floor. Ben Rymar jumped, spilling
most of his water glass down his front.
“God!” Harenn said from behind her veil. “We have left slipspace.”
“How did – ” Ben began, but Harenn had already left the galley.
Ben scrambled to his feet to hurry after her, shedding bits of ice and
swearing under his breath. His tunic clung cold and wet to his
stomach.
“Hold on,” he protested, catching up. “How do you know we left
slip?”
“The Poltergeist is a brand
new ship and it still has minor bugs in the slipdrive,” Harenn said
without slackening her pace. “A good engineer can feel the
difference when it shuts down. I am an excellent engineer.”
“There’s still no big hurry. We have to negotiate landing
privileges before we can even enter orbit. Five minutes won’t
make a difference.”
“Perhaps not to you.” Harenn tapped her earpiece without breaking
stride. “Father Kendi, I see we have left slipspace. Have
we arrived at Klimkinnar or has something gone wrong?”
Ben quickly activated his own earpiece and checked the communication
display on his ocular implant. A flick of his eye highlighted the
proper channel and tuned him into the conversation.
“ –lutely nothing has gone wrong,
Harenn,” came Kendi’s familiar voice. “We’re about a thirty thousand kilometers
out from Klimkinnar, right on schedule.”
“Half an hour to get there, then,” Harenn said to the empty air.
They reached the lift and hustled inside before the doors snapped
shut. Although Ben couldn’t see anything of Harenn’s face except
brown eyes above a blue veil, her entire body radiated
impatience. A faint smell of bath powder hung about her.
With a grimace, Ben pulled the front of his damp tunic away from his
body and flapped it, trying to speed the evaporation as the lift rose.
“Apologies,” Harenn murmured.
“It’s just water,” Ben said. “Don’t worry, Harenn. We’ll
get there and we’ll find your son.”
Harenn made no reply, but rushed onto the bridge the moment the doors
opened, leaving Ben behind. He followed more slowly.
The bridge was an oval, with the captain’s chair in the center and a
large viewscreen at one of the narrow ends. Individual
workstations ringed the bulkheads. Two of them – the pilot board
and the sensor board – were occupied. Everything was painted in
soft blues and greens, and there were no angles anywhere. Even
the doors had rounded corners. The place smelled of fresh
paint. As Harenn had pointed out, the Poltergeist was new – large and
well-appointed.
Seated in the captain’s chair, Father Kendi Weaver glanced up as Ben
and Harenn entered. Kendi was Ben’s age – not quite thirty – but
where Ben was short and stocky, Kendi was tall and thin, with dark
skin, a broad nose, and tightly-curled black hair. Despite his
relative youth, stress lines had cropped up around his eyes and on his
forehead. A gold medallion glittered from a chain around his
neck, and a green jade ring gleamed on his right hand. The former
indicated that he was a Child of Irfan, the latter that he had reached
the rank of Father. Harenn strode to his chair, though her eyes
never left the viewscreen and its display of the planet. Like
most human-inhabited worlds, Klimkinnar was blue and green with
interesting swirls of clouds drifting through the atmosphere. A
trio of moonlets danced their way through orbit while stars glittered
on a velvety backdrop. The whole scene was very pretty.
It was also very big.
“So this is where my son is hidden,” Harenn breathed from behind her
veil. “Where my son is a slave.”
“If Sejal’s information was correct,” Kendi said.
“I hope we can narrow things down a little,” Gretchen Beyer put in from
the sensor boards. She was a tall, raw-boned woman with blue
eyes, blond hair, and bland features that would blend easily into a
crowd. The gold medallion around her neck matched Kendi’s, though
her amber ring gave her rank as Sister.
“What do you mean?” Kendi asked.
“Database says Klimkinnar is thirteen thousand, fifty-five kilometers
in diameter – a little bigger than Earth,” Gretchen said.
“Surface area is seventy-odd percent water, but we’re still talking
about three hundred and eighty million square kilometers.” She
sniffed theatrically. “Might take a little time to search.
More than eight weeks, that’s for sure, and that’s all we’ve got.”
“It isn’t that bad,” said Lucia dePaolo from the pilot console.
“We can find ways to narrow it down. He’s got to be in an
inhabited area, for one thing.”
“Population one point two billion,” Gretchen reported.
“But not all of them will be slaves,” Kendi countered.
“Slave population three point three million.”
“Shut up, Gretchen,” Lucia said.
“We will find him,” Harenn said with quiet finality. The dark
eyes above her veil were filled with fierce determination. “And
we will set him free."