A Different Kind Of Heaven (Tribes of the Hakahei: Book 4)

Prologue

***

A While Ago

Tuki fazed out of the trance, letting it slowly slip away. Sounds and scents, colors and sensations followed one after the other like sand draining through his fingers, but the trailing edges of the vision clung to his consciousness like never before. For a moment, it was hard to separate the here from there, to separate the now from then. He drew in a deep breath, trying to calm his swirling thoughts. He felt a terrible sense of foreboding. When he opened his eyes, even that was gone, leaving him naked in the heat of the desert with just the memories. He blinked rapidly.

The warm wind touched his dark skin. Sand set it to tingling.

The day had drifted on, farther than he imagined. The shadow in which he sat had pushed its ragged edge several meters closer to the shattered, sand-choked well in the center of the square.

I have travelled far, Tuki said to the glass ewer as he took it up in his hand. He knew he should not judge, but he would never have thought that such a plain item, made by humans, would be able to take him so far. When he had first found the ewer, buried beneath the sand in the corner of a desert-drowned house, he had thought it would hold no life within its flawed form. But life it had contained, and what a life!

He wondered what long dead human had possessed enough skill to produce such a wonderful Eye. And he wondered what journey he had made. Obviously it was a journey of many kilometers, for no such hills were in the desert and he had never heard of anything like the strange snaking creature he had seen. But had he also travelled in time? Had he witnessed what was, or what will be? Or had he watched the meteor’s destruction of the silver trail as it happened? And what of the other creatures— the three legged ones and those with the hard, colorful shells who rode the strange bats? There were too many questions to be answered by one young male, alone in the desert.

Yesterday

While she waited, Meledrin brought up different views of Hulgorn and the battle that raged around it. She scanned the radio frequencies. Another hurgon voice came from the radio.

"Hakan vessel, this is Buni, of the great T’loop family. Buni orders the Hakahei to return to the planet. The hakans will not be harmed."

Meledrin sniffed and pressed the transmit button. "It has already been proven that the T’loop family can not be trusted. The Hakahei will not make the same mistake twice."

"No deal was brokered."

We had a verbal agreement.

"Verbal agreements mean nothing."

"Then a verbal agreement means nothing now as well. Buni of the T’loop should think before speaking. Besides, Cuto of the T’loop does not agree with Buni. Cuto helped the Hakahei’s grandmother and mother escape because when the T’loop broke the verbal agreement the T’loop also broke Cuto’s heart."

"Scree we need some trolls down here now. Ping said in the midst of the conversation. Seven west."

Cliff, Meledrin said, hoping the troll was not concentrating on shooting so much that he could not hear. He grunted in reply. Can you ask Stone to go down and assist Ping? Level 7, on the western side.

He grunted again and continued firing.

Buni changed tack. "The P’targa family started this war. The P’targa fired on a T’loop kil’ini. The councils will not stand for it."

Buni, the legalities of the situation are being discussed on another frequency. Buni will not convince Meledrin to stop, so perhaps Buni should discuss this matter with Yuwi of the P’targa. She changed to another frequency.

Alignment in one minute.

We will reach top speed in three minutes, Barge said.

The Hakahei was still not clear of the confrontation but was being ignored for the most part. A half dozen kil’ini were following, but did not seem keen to come too close— perhaps they were there as protection.

Aligned. Lapenti is thirty light years. That is one jump of 15 hours and twenty five minutes.

Thank you, Tuki. Bargle.

Got it. Setting the timer for fifteen hours and twenty five minutes. The dwarf fiddled with the buttons. Done. And we have top speed.

Very well. Now we shall wait to hear from Ping.

Right.

The alien is jumping in, Meledrin.

Pardon? She looked around, thinking that one or all of the six hurgon on the Hakahei were storming the bridge.

The multeese is leaving a jump.

Ohhh... She would have preferred the hurgon.

1: All over

Scree looked up when the lights went out. There was a clatter of noise against the hull. What’s going on nows?

But it was obvious enough— they’d gone through to the universe the ship used when travelling interstellar distances. No advanced machinery worked here, so the lights didn’t work and the best their enemies could do was throw rocks at them. Scree grunted. Rocks wouldn’t have been surprising, seeing they’d put up with just about everything else.

And he still didn’t know if it was worth it. Keeble had organized the contracts they needed to end the war with the hurgon, but if they couldn’t get the last signature then it was all for nothing. They’d be back at the start, fighting two enemies they couldn’t hope to beat. The hurgon would overwhelm them, eventually, with their endless hordes of living ships. And the single multeese ship would blow them into oblivion with technology.

Scree didn’t even know who’d been throwing the most recent rocks, or the missiles that had come before, but he decided everyone on the Hakahei was probably lucky to be alive.

He turned to look back at Kim. She was only just visible in the murky half-light the universe offered. Long, dark hair framed her pale, slack face. Her skin was cold. She was breathing steadily but hadn’t even stirred since passing out in the hurgon torture chamber. Some were luckier than others.

A moment later, Captain Dominic Thorpe stormed into the room carrying a lantern. The human hung the light on a hook in the center of the ceiling and threw his red SAS beret onto the bench. He started going through drawers and cupboards. The swinging lantern threw wild, dancing shadows on the walls, the furniture, stretched them all the way out the door. The squeaking of the handle quickly got on Scree’s nerves but he didn’t move, in case he broke the spell of studied concentration on the other man’s face. Thorpe grabbed all sorts of things and put them on a small, wheeled table.

There was a commotion at the door. Trolls and humans were crowding outside. ‘Brick’ Dunning, an American Air Force Raven almost as big as a troll, was closest.

Who have you got, Brick? Thorpe asked.

We’ve got Kafin, sir. Brick’s dark face was splashed with light for a moment as the lantern continue to swing. A long smear of grease marked his cheek.

Head wound, right?

Yes, sir.

Put him there. He pointed to the bed beside Kim’s, right near where Scree was sitting. It seemed Thorpe noticed Scree for the first time. He stared for a moment before going back to work.

Brick and Chip put Kafin on the bed. Blood poured from a gash across the dwarf’s forehead and there was a lump the size of half a peach.

Talus and Stone brought in Paul Manning next. His left leg was a bloody pulp from the knee down. They laid the human on the main bed near the back of the medical bay. Crystal was with them, carrying the mangled, barely attached limb in one hand and a pair of pliers held cose to the bloody knee in the other. All of them— patient and bearers— were covered in blood.

When the others cleared out, Crystal started to go with them.

Not you, Crystal, Thorpe said sharply. You stay there and keep hold of those pliers.

The trollop swallowed and nodded. Scree knew how she felt. Trolls knew better than anyone that death could be gruesome and bloody, but apparently life could be worse.

Ari was brought in next. There was only one bed left so she was put there. Her arm was swollen and bruised, obviously broken. She was hurting but she’d live. The other two probably wouldn’t.

What you gots there? Scree asked Crystal, motioning to the pliers.

The trollop didn’t even look up.

What you gots there? Scree asked again.

Got got an artery, she replied eventually.

Scree grunted. What happened?

Thorpe answered. What do you care? He finished collecting his tools and wheeled the table over to Manning’s side. If you’re just going to sit there, you do it and shut up.

Scree surged to his feet. He stared at Thorpe but the human didn’t seem to notice. I could kills you for that, Scree said. I’m in charge on this ships while Kim’s injured.

Thorpe spared him a glance. Yeah, you could kill me, but you aren’t in charge. He turned back to examine what was left of his countryman’s leg. We have to seal the artery, he said to Crystal. I’m going to tie a bit of string around it. You just have to hold on until I’m done.

Crystal nodded. All right right.

What you means I ain’t in charge? Scree clenched his teeth, holding back more words. It was like he was a real troll again, like he’d been before he’d met Kim and his other strange, new companions.

The hurgon were attacking from the ground and from space. Meledrin took charge on the bridge to get us off Hulgorn. Thorpe worked at Manning’s leg while he talked. We were seriously damaged. Keeble and Ping kept the workers from panicking. They got everything going enough for Meledrin to do her job, though, as you see, it wasn’t easy.

The knot was tied. Crystal let go with the pliers and set the bloody tool down.

Blood was still seeping out of the leg but it was controllable. The knot was hidden in the pulp.

Brick?

Sir, the American called from the hall.

O-neg?

Not me, sir. I’ll check with the others.

Good. Thorpe rattled around on the little table. Kesi’s dead, Scree. At least we think she is. We haven’t actually found her yet. Sandy? Now, Sandy’s definitely dead.

Scree knew that. When Keeble and his party first came back to the ship with the contracts and the hurgon lawyers, Scree had listened to the other trolls talking in his head. They needed to take the damn things to another planet to get the final signature they needed.

Thorpe bent forward and poked in amongst the ruins of the leg. Crystal, take his leg. He picked up a little knife and went in again. Right, now twist a little bit.

The trollop did what she was asked, but didn’t look happy about it. Scree agreed. It was strange doing that to save someone.

Stop. Hold it there. Thorpe carefully cut something away. And some more. Whoa. He cut again then stood up straight. Okay, twist a bit more.

Crystal twisted the mangled bone. It’s tough tough, she said.

Yeah, that’s okay, just twist.

She did and there was a loud crack.

Pull it out.

Scree watched as she pulled the shinbone and bloody flesh away.

Right, now we’re going to take these bits of skin and sew them over the end of the leg. Are you ready?

Umm... Yeah.

Good.

She didn’t look ready.

Sandy died on Hulgorn, when Keeble was trying to return to the ship, Thorpe continued as he cut away hanging flesh to get some more spare skin. Keeble isn’t a soldier, Scree. He’s just a young man, barely in his twenties. I imagine he’s taking the loss of someone under his command pretty badly.

Scree grunted but wasn’t sure what to say.

He’s out there working. He’s doing his job. And who’s doing your job while you sit in here and sulk?

I ain’t sulking.

Pining then— I don’t give a shit what you call it. Meanwhile, who’s doing your job? Meledrin’s in overall charge and doing better than I would have expected. Bargle was driving— that’s a scary thought as well, but he did well by all accounts. We aren’t dead, after all. Everyone else— elves, trolls, dwarves, even the moai— is working under Keeble and Ping to get the ship working again.

Sir?

Amy? Yes?

The American Marine was in the doorway. O-negative, sir. He red hair was dirty and singed. She had a cut on her cheek.

Excellent. Thorpe pointed to a seat in the corner. Bags in the locker above, I think. Can you do it yourself?

Yes, sir.

Good.

Scree watched as the woman took a soft, clear bag down from the cupboard and found a hook for it on the wall. She tied a strap around her arm, pumped her hand a couple of times, and stuck a needle into a vein. Blood flowed into the bag. Scree saw Ari watching as well. Her arm looked terrible, but she didn’t complain.

Thorpe was sewing strips of skin together, covering the stump of Manning’s leg.

One liter, Sir.

Thanks, Amy.

You want more?

Of course, but not from you. What about Tim? He’s your brother.

Already here, Dominic. Scree watched as the American sergeant strode into the room, already rolling up his sleeve. He was shorter than his sister, with a round face and crooked teeth.

When you’re done there, Amy, can you look at Ari’s arm?

Sure.

Scree swallowed. He’d always laughed at human soldiers with all their orders and training. Why couldn’t they just go and fight? But these ones moved calmly and surely, doing what they could and not giving up on anyone— including the living.

2: Assumptions

Scree pointed to Kafin. The dwarf hadn’t moved since he’d been put there. I’d looks at him first, he said. That lump on his head don’t look goods.

Thorpe looked at Scree for a moment, then across at the dwarf. See what you can see, Amy. There has to be some type of scanning equipment in here.

Won’t work.

What? Oh, damn. He looked over his shoulder at the lantern, then continued sewing. Okay, give me a minute.

When they got out the hand drill, Scree had to leave. There were three trolls stationed around the outer, circular passage to keep watch, though what they’d do if they saw anything was anyone’s guess.

Where is everyone? Scree asked Bones.

All over. Here and there. Everywhere. Ping has some working on the clock. Something wrong with it. Too much tick and not enough tock maybe. Keeble’s fixing a hole on Level 4. Level 4? Level 5? Yeah, I think it’s level 4. Most of the rest are on Level 7 trying to clear the still. Went bang. Crap everywhere. Probably a hole in the wall there too.

Right. Scree left before Bones could say anything else. In the semi-darkness, he took the stairs two at a time down to Level 7.

The hallway outside the fuel-still was full of wreckage. People were passing it out the door and piling it against the walls. Meledrin was there, tall and slim, and fidgeting like never before. Her copper colored hair was all over the place. The elf wasn’t helping with the moving but stood watching as if every piece of broken machinery and every piece of twisted metal was her responsibility.

What’s going on? Scree asked.

Meledrin turned to look. She stared for a moment and smoothed unconsciously at her hair. We are attempting to reach Kesi.

Is she dead? A couple of the workers stop to look at him as if he’d broken a rule about asking that question.

Meledrin shrugged and waved her fingers in one of her small ceremonies. The lamp in the corner threw shadows of her dancing fingers onto the wall. We are unable to ascertain with any certainty. We are not willing to make any assumptions, just in case.

What you wants me to do?

There is insufficient room for more people in the still.

Dwarves needed somewhere else?

Meledrin nodded. Perhaps. Topper?

The dwarf stuck his head out of the room. What? His face was covered in soot and grease and there was a scrape on the side of his neck. The plaits in his long, sandy beard were unraveling. Weariness had settled on his shoulders as if he was trying to hold up a wall.

Scree can assist in there if you wish to make use of dwarves elsewhere.

Topper looked at Scree with an expression the troll was starting to hate. It said exactly the same thing as Thorpe’s ‘What do you care?’ from earlier. The dwarf tugged on his beard and killed off another plait. He looked at the leather thong in his hand for a moment, sighed, and put it in a pocket. I’ll send someone to help Mintar and Dosa with the air recyclers. He looked at the dwarves working outside. Hoodek, Tess.

The two dwarves nodded and moved. They looked half defeated as well.

You want me to pile stuff? Scree asked.

Topper shook his head. We need the muscle in here.

#

Scree was still there when most of the others had gone. There was only Topper and a couple of other dwarves left, trying to work out what needed to be done to get the still working again. They stood in the hall surveying the clutter.

Kesi’s body had been carried away.

Can I helps? Scree asked. He’d worked for more than two hours and had forgotten about Kim and the world in general. He had forgotten about everything except the next piece of wreckage.

I don’t think so, Topper said, shaking his head slowly, still lost in thought. Thanks for the help you did give though.

Scree grunted. Weren’t much help before that.

The dwarf shrugged. We were all pissed off at you but I can kinda understand what was going on. He looked at the other dwarves for a moment. This isn’t vital, he said. Why don’t we have a break and get back to it later.

Makar, Dogar and Milo nodded and turned to walk slowly towards the stairs. Scree started to follow but Topper didn’t move.

You’re friends with Ping, aren’t you Scree?

Scree thought about that as he went back to the dwarf. He and Ping had gotten along for the most part but he wasn’t sure that ‘friends’ was the right word. Yeah, I suppose. Maybes.

Do you know..? He started to wander along a passage towards the back of the ship, absently working to tidy the plaits in his beard. Scree followed. Well, in Tab Cavern if a dwife was living in the Hotel or the Maiden Bunker, you told her to move into your bunker and that was that. But with Ping I just don’t know.

Scree laughed and Topper looked offended.

It isn’t funny, he said. If you’re just going to laugh—

Scree held up his hand, still laughing. It ain’t funny, Topper. What’s funny is that you thinks I can help. It wasn’t exactly the same for me, but close enough. Scree had never really asked for anything in his life.

They stopped where the passage opened out near a door to a storeroom. Scree looked down at the young dwarf. Topper was being honest, opening himself up. Apparently, that was what friends did. Scree looked around. There was nobody else there. He cleared his throat. If anything, he said, I shoulds be the one asking for advice.

It was Topper’s turn to laugh. But Kim likes you. Everyone knows that.

Could’ve told me. But maybe it was obvious. Maybe he’d known all along. So why didn’t he do something? Because if he didn’t act then he couldn’t fail... Because if he didn’t act then he wouldn’t stop being a troll and become just another man...

Was there anything wrong with being a man? Keeble, Thorpe and Suldon were all men of different kinds. Were they so bad? Scree liked all of them, in one way or another. He respected them.

You never look like you need any advice, Scree.

Always do, Topper. Just don’t know it most of the time. He smiled. And Ping? I think she likes you too.

You think?

Yeah. But... Scree knew all too well why Ping might not trust men. He cleared his throat. It mightn’t be easy for her.

Oh?

I reckon you should just take it slow. Hang around and be a nice guy. Make sure she knows what you want— and it better be more than sex or I’ll rip your head off. He smiled as he said it, but he thought he might be serious. The look on Topper’s face suggested he was thinking the same thing. And then waits and see.

Hello? Inaki’s voice echoed down the passage. Is anyone down here?

Scree looked at Topper and nodded. Yo, Inaki-boy. We’s here.

The moai poked his head around the corner. He was bigger than a troll but like Tuki, the other moai, was shy and quiet. When he’d first come aboard the Hakahei he wouldn’t speak unless asked a question and almost blushed at the sight of a woman. Everyone must come to the garden, he said quietly.

Who says?

Tuki.

Right then, Scree nodded.

Inaki disappeared, probably off to search