Melinda Snodgrass - Double solitaire

The old man seemed to shrink. “Ancestors! It can’t be.”

Tach leaned forward intently. “It is. I can tell you more. The day your sister – my mother – died. I had crawled under her arm, but she was so cold -”

“Stop! Baz, get these… travelers down here. Now.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And make inquiries. You understand?”

“Yes.”

“So he believes you?” Mark asked.

“He doesn’t know what to believe,” Tachyon replied. They were waiting outside one of the docking bays. “Any good telepath could have pulled those memories from the real Tachyon’s mind.”

“Zabb did vouch for you.”

“Given our family history, that could end up damning me more than helping me. After my father was… injured, Taj has served as regent to the House. Protecting my throne until my return. Protecting it most notably against Zabb.” She sighed. Her back was aching abominably, and indigestion set her stomach to roiling. “And it won’t take Baz long to discover that Zabb is captaining that Network ship.”

“So we’re really in a ‘have you stopped beating your wife yet?’ situation,” Jay said.

“Not that hopeless. Once me meets me, our bona fides will be established.”

“Yeah?” Jay asked aggressively. Tach simply tapped her temple. “Oh… yeah.” The ace walked a tight, nervous turn. Jay jammed his hands into his pockets. “Some kind of Takisian ordure is hitting whatever passes for the fan on this planet.”

“What makes you think that?”

Jay simply tapped his temple. Zabb, Nesfa, and several Viand arrived.

“I came to say farewell,” said Zabb as if in answer to a question Tachyon hadn’t posed.

“It can’t be soon enough.”

“And I to tell you… goodbye,” Nesfa twinkled at Jay.

Jay’s eyes widened in alarm, his Adam’s apple worked convulsively, and finally a single word emerged. “Great.” He took up a position safely behind Mark Meadows.

Tach returned to a contemplation of the amber lights running in complex patterns over the lintel of the air lock. A voice warned them softly in Takisian that a ship was arriving, and it was unsafe to open the inner door until docking was complete. There was a soft ringing like the chime of a glockenspiel, and the lights went blue.

The lock cycled open, and Bazzakra, flanked by five soldiers, stepped through. The guards quickly fanned out. Their weapons were still holstered, but tension vibrated in the silence. A couple of the Takisians eyed Zabb respectfully, and Tach realized that her rival had been gone only five years. Her absence spanned over forty. Who would remember Tisianne?

Baz was staring at her, mostly at her most obvious physical feature. Feeling as awkward and ungainly as a blimp, she stepped forward and made a quick, sweeping gesture across her forehead.

“Read.”

She felt the delicate probe like the brush of a feather across a fingertip. It fell away at the same moment Bazzakra took a step backward.

“Burning Sky! It is you.”

For an instant he seemed bereft of words. Here in the presence of so many powerful telepaths, Tach was discovering that her feeble skills seemed augmented. She could catch whispers, shadows of the thoughts around her. Bazzakra’s were of total confusion, a man trying to make sense out of too many horrifying factors.

Finally he shook his head and limited himself to a fervent, “The blood is well and truly flowing now.”

“Take me home, Baz. We’ll sort it out later.’

“If it can be,” Zabb offered cheerfully.

Baz’s face closed down. There was regret in the blue eyes, but also contempt. He turned to Zabb. “You understand, my lord -”

“That I’m an impotent bastard without a pedigree, and I can never, ever, ever go home. Yes, I know” He crossed to Tachyon and lifted her hand. “Goodbye, Tis. I hope you have a safe delivery. Whether back into your own form, or into the exalted ranks of motherhood.”

He leaned in and gave her the kiss between relatives, first on the forehead, then the lips. She was too clumsy to elude the embrace, and the contact left her shivering, her stomach reduced to a tight knot. Tach dragged the back of her hand across her mouth.

The soldiers closed ranks around Baz and the three travelers, and they moved swiftly through the lock. Tach noticed the guards never turned their backs on the Viand. She was certainly home. It was depressing.

The ship was a small, quick passenger shuttle. Bred for boring, repetitive work, it lacked the wit and sparkle of a ship like Tachyon’s stolen Baby. But its thoughts were welcoming, and it extruded more benches to accommodate the newcomers.

They began the uncoupling procedure. Tach sagged on a bench and tried not to fall asleep. Tried to plan. Tried to shut out Illyana. Tried to stop wondering what color her child’s eyes would be.

It was an alien emotion, but as the lock cycled shut, Zabb felt a fist close around his chest. He forced aside the homesickness, the sense of abandonment, and counted down the seconds. Far enough, but not too far. What he was about to try was utterly, totally, completely insane, but it would be a death to be sung, and whether he succeeded or failed, he would be out of the hands of the Network. He was going home.

Zabb drew in three panting breaths through his mouth, sucked in a lungful of air, and, drawing his weapon, blew out the lock. Alarms began sounding, the edges of the rift secreting material as the station fought to heal itself and stop the hemorrhage. None of this really registered with Zabb. He kicked off hard, like a runner at the start of a race. Across the floor of the docking bay. The mad sprint was burning air, but it couldn’t be helped. He needed the inertia. The outer hull lock was slowly shuttering closed.

Zabb hit the edge of the bay and jumped. The abrupt loss of gravity set his stomach rolling. He focused on the gray, rough hull of the Takisian shuttle to ease the nausea. He measured his progress toward that surface against his remaining air. The calculations were not encouraging.

Tachyon was jerked awake by the ship.

Master, an explosion has breached the integrity of the platform. Should I recouple?

No! On visual.

The ship obligingly offered them a view of the slowly retreating docking bay. Where the lock had been, there was a ragged hole. Tachyon lurched to her feet as she spotted the small figure in Network mufti diving slowly after the departing ship.

“Jesus Christ,” Jay breathed. “He’ll never make it.”

“No,” Mark said. “Inertia will carry him. If he can hold his breath long enough.”

The Viand were firing now, using their newly purchased weapons. They were lousy shots. High energy beams pulsing through the bay, light claws scratching at the fabric of space. Nothing came even close to Zabb.

“Motherless mudcrawlers! Fire on my ship! On a Takisian! Return fire!” Baz ordered.

Lasers lashed from the ship, and one of the Viand went down. Its pouch convulsed wildly, and the worm crawled free. There was an audible thump as Zabb hit the side of the ship.

Tach clutched Baz’s arm. “Don’t let him in.”

She “heard” Zabb’s preemptory command to the ship. Its acquiescence. Admiration for Zabb and a desire to obey Tachyon warred on Baz’s face. His hesitation made the decision for him. There was no time to countermand the order to the ship. The inner door flowered open, and Zabb tottered through. Collapsed.

Baz issued a telepathic command, and the ship leapt like a startled cat. Front heavy and awkward, Tach teetered, staggered backward. The bench caught her in the back of the knees, and she sprawled.

“Remember all that blood that was going to start flowing?” she said bitterly. “Well, it certainly will now. And it’s all going to be mine.”