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 Sisters of the Wind (Book Excerpt)by Diana Kemp-Jones The Alternate Universe of Diana Kemp-Jones Page 3 of 5 Seladon angrily broke free from Ekkoe's grasp and returned to the helm, her lips pressed tightly as she transmitted the kill confirmation to Terra Base IV. A strand of hair broke free from her topknot and curled over her left ear. "Let's leave the psych session for later," she snapped. "I'm not in the mood for lectures. I'm requesting our next assignment. It's time to leave this arctic paradise." A rainbow of prismatic running lights blazed along the prowler's omega-shaped flanks as it smoothly broke orbit. The wintry Lunuguayan planet retreated on the navigational screens like a fragile quartz paperweight. Aboard, the mood remained tense, each crewmember keeping to themselves. As the ship skirted the unstable gas giants of the outer solar system, a Lunuguayan patrol cruiser hailed to request course verification. Delahl bristled at the sight of the vulpine ship, their weapons prominently displayed. "Paranoid bastards," he muttered. "They commission our services but still don't trust us to travel in their precious space. We don't even know what they look like. All we hear from them is the occasional cryptic message. I'm surprised they don't shield their vessels." "They're hardcore purists," said Ekkoe, her eyes following the uncompromising lines of the alien patrol cruiser. "As self-sufficient as a race can be. Only under extreme circumstances do they deal outside their system." "So they're purists when it suits them," said Seladon. "Sounds a lot like the ethics of the Service." "It's all bullshit," said Delahl. "Every race is the same when it comes to relegating the dirty work." Seladon quickly confirmed their exit course and cleared the Lunuguayan system under the hawklike vigilance of the patrol cruiser. Once in free space, a signal from ProTerra Base IV arrived through a secure channel. A cellular scanner identified each crewmember before the message appeared on screen, the words transforming from a jumble of cuneiform into legible Anglisch. Various emotions played on the crew's faces as they scrutinized the instructions for the next mission. Halfway through the message, the pasty countenance of Special Service Minister Blaurwun flashed on screen, his expression vacuous as he clearly began reciting from a prompter. His slicked bluish hair and dull fishy eyes gave little inspiration, his furtive appearance more suited to a petty criminal. "The exceptional security surrounding this transmission has probably alerted you to its sensitive nature," said Blaurwun, "but I'm still compelled to warn you that the following classified material is strictly for your eyes only." Delahl sat like an attentive dog while Ekkoe watched with a more conservative demeanor. Seladon tensed as the monotonous speech continued. Instinct had taught her to dread the rare personal intervention of Special Service officials. She watched apprehensively as the presentation shifted to a view of a misty planet obscured by the anemic light of a distant star. Vague shapes rose from shadowy landscapes and metamorphosized into temples of fluted pink-veined marble and magnificently carved monuments. The eerie glow of bioluminescent vegetation augmented scattered pinpoints of habitation. Only the prowler's automated pulse broke the silence as the trio observed the mystical planet. The view closed on a massive amphitheater of rose granite filled to capacity by albino humanoids dressed in flowing silken garments. Seladon was touched by the simultaneous familiarity and strangeness of the milky-skinned race, her memory tugged by an ancient connection. Ekkoe responded to her thoughts. "I could almost believe I was looking at a time capsule of ancient Greece or Rome." Seladon nodded excitedly. "I was struggling to identify the culture but couldn't place it. Your historical prowess obviously exceeds mine." "Can't you recognize a progenitor colony when you see one?" piped Delahl. "This is Greco Novus, one of five historically based ProTerran colonies established within the last three centuries." Seladon swallowed a retort and turned back to a drama in progress complete with beaten metal masks and operatic oratory. Though the amphitheater was well illuminated by a circle of flame pits, the fiery beacons failed to dispel the perpetual twilight lurking beyond. She shook her head. "I couldn't stand living on such a world. Imagine Earth only by moonlight. Conditions are bad enough with sunlight." "Greco Novus certainly isn't a place for the psychological morbid," said Ekkoe. "Though obviously the natives are well adapted." "I disagree," said Delahl. "I don't find Greco Novus morbid at all. There's a certain savage beauty to this planet. It offers a privacy unknown on Earth which I find immensely appealing." "Privacy notwithstanding," said Ekkoe, "the average foreigner's chances of developing acute depression or other applicable neuroses are guaranteed on light-deficient planets. You'd soon weary of the nocturnal life once the novelty wears off." Delahl looked unconvinced. "Speak for yourself. I'm not a statistic. I know what I like when I see it." Copyright© 1999, 2000, 2001, 2002 Diana Kemp-Jones, sffworld.com. All rights reserved. No part of this may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the author. |
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