Way of No Return (Champions of the Crystal Book 8)

Chapter 10.1

Scotty trudged into the underground facility near the eastern tip of Zarn, shaking sand out of his hair and counting the seconds until he could reach the locker room and take his boots off to pour the sand out of them. He wasn't pleased to be interrupted, until he took off his earmuffs and understood what Kander was saying. "There's been a response to the message! Quick, come translate it for us!"

Scotty forgot all about sand as he hurried down the corridor after Kander. "Are we sure it's from Sabrina?"

"You tell us. It's not her voice, but that could just mean they're being careful. Nobody else would know about this, would they?"

"Nobody outside the family," Scotty said as they went into the makeshift control room. "Subcommander," he said, saluting.

"Welcome back, Major," Rigeon said. She nodded to one of the techs, and Scotty listened intently to the message. "She's safe, and she's got Seuréa with her. Play it again, would you?"

"This is Lisa Simpson responding to her brother Bart. I am safe and have Maggie with me. I am not in touch with Milhouse but I hope he is with Homer. Do you know where Mr. Burns is? If so, tell him to warn us before he releases the hounds."

Scotty frowned. "Who the hell is she talking about? Mr. Burns is the evil old owner of the nuclear plant and Homer's boss. Tirqwin doesn't have a boss. Shards, did she get it wrong? She should know this stuff better than I do!"

"What is all that about dogs?" Rigeon asked.

"Hounds, a kind of hunting dog, though I think Mr. Burns uses his for guard dogs," Scotty said. "When someone comes to his house he gives the command to 'release the hounds' and the dogs chase them off." He frowned as his mind made a random connection, based on the Praxatillian translation of Mr. Burns' phrase. "Let slip the dogs of war. Wait a minute. That's Star Trek. Well, it's Shakespeare I think, but I know it from the last original Star Trek movie. Maybe—can she mean Mr. Burns is Baldaran? Then the hounds would be the military."

Rigeon frowned. "I do not think the princess would refer to the King as evil or old."

"It's not the character that matters. Believe me, Tirqwin's no Homer Simpson either. Though I make a pretty good Bart," Scotty grinned. "Yeah, I think that's it. She wants some warning before we make a move. Which is kinda the whole point of this, thanks, sis."

Rigeon shook her head. "I think we can safely assume the Reissians and Kyan will not be able to penetrate this code. I do not even understand it."

"Nobody does except me and Rina. Well, if there were any other Americans around, they might. And Aurora's watched an episode or two. Ford probably has as well. And Khediva would probably recognize the names since she records the vids for us. But like I said, nobody but the family." Scotty grinned again. "At least we know she's alive and safe, and so is Seuréa. I'm worried that she doesn't know where Ford is, though."

"He must be with one of his parents," Rigeon said. "Or we would have heard something about him by now. I do not think he would remain idle."

"No way," Scotty agreed. "Wherever he is, I know what he's trying to do: get to Sabrina. He might even get there by the time we're ready to go." He paused. "Can I send a message back?"

"We should wait until tomorrow," Rigeon said. "We do not want to call attention to the exchange. I will allow other staff here to send messages to their families via that frequency to help disguise it, but we must be careful. The last thing I want to do is endanger the princess and the Inheritor."

"Hey, if it gets me off patrol, I'm all for tomorrow," Scotty said. "Um. Can I go de-sand myself now, Subcommander?"

"Please do, Major. And good work. This is excellent news that His Majesty will be very pleased to hear."

"Thank you, ma'am." Scotty saluted and left, whistling despite the annoyance of his sand-filled boots.

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The Oath of Cinnavon was huge, and Cynthia regularly got lost during the three days they spent in transit to the Praxera system. Ford spent most of his time strategizing with the captain, Ziara Ghalaine, but Cynthia found it too nerve-wracking to be constantly trying to guess the protocols, both royal and military, despite Lien's help. She made friends with the ship's medical officer instead and got started updating her skill set, which might, she admitted, take the rest of her life since she had to learn to read Praxatillian as well. She also had to submit to training sessions with the ship's crew and tutorials on combat suit operation and firearms, at Lien's insistence.

Once they emerged into the Praxera system, Ford, Lien, and Cynthia took a shuttle to Praxatillus' outermost space installation, which hosted a small military supply base and orbited far enough away to be outside the siege lines. Cynthia took the opportunity to figure out the optimum dose of spacesickness medicine Lien assured her she would need once they commandeered one of the short-range ships housed there, which Ford thought was harmless enough to get through the siege around Praxatillus.

There were only a few people left on the base, which had been evacuated as the First Fleet withdrew from Praxatillus, and the commander promptly handed over the ship they were keeping ready for their own evacuation. Ford left them the Oath of Cinnavon's shuttle and advised them to leave for the ship rather than risk being caught on the base during a Reissian retreat. Everyone seemed to cheer up at the thought.

Once they were underway for Praxatillus, Cynthia murmured to Lien, "I wish we'd brought the medical equipment after all. So far it's going well."

"This was the easy part," Lien said. "Besides, we couldn't carry all that equipment if we have to go far on foot once we reach the planet. Khediva will bring it with her. The princess still has some time."

"Lien," Ford said, "come up here and take the controls, please. I want to concentrate and see if I can hear Sabrina, now that we're getting close."

"Yes, sir," Lien said, sliding into the co-pilot's seat. "I can't do much more than fly it in a straight line, though."

"That's all you have to do for the moment," Ford replied. "You can't really maneuver at supralight speeds, anyway."

"Right," Lien said as Ford got up and made his way to the back of the shuttle.

Cynthia came to stand behind Lien's seat. "You're a pilot, too?"

"Um, mostly atmospheric craft. Flyers and such. I took some classes on Homeworld for long-distance piloting, but I never got certified," Lien admitted.

Cynthia took a deep breath. "I think I'll pretend I never asked."

They were silent until Ford came back, looking disgruntled.

"No luck?" Cynthia asked.

"I think I reached her, but I couldn't hear her well. And she might have been dreaming. There was something about Bart Simpson."

Cynthia laughed in surprise, and Ford shook his head. "Amusing, perhaps, but not useful. Strap in; we're getting close to the deceleration point.  Cynthia, when we drop below lightspeed, press this. It's the recall device for my transport capsule. We should just be in range of it. Lien, you remember how to open it? Good. Both of you get inside, and I'll be right behind you. We should be able to evacuate before they blow up this ship."

Cynthia fastened the helmet of her combat suit, which Lien had assured her would hold against vacuum, as the men did the same. Lien shifted his gear bag to his lap, and Cynthia reached under her seat and grabbed hers too. She held onto the recall device tightly with her heavy gloves, careful not to press on the button, and gritted her teeth as the ship bucked a little and the blurry viewscreen resolved into a nearby planet with ships in orbit.

"Now!" Ford shouted.

Cynthia pressed the button as Lien tore off his restraints. A white cabinet appeared, and Lien ripped off a glove and pressed his hand against it as Cynthia reached him. They had no sooner squeezed inside than Ford threw himself in after them and closed the door. The cabinet tilted and vibrated alarmingly as he did so, and Cynthia visualized the ship coming apart around them.