Obligations of Blood: Anchorage, #3

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Cover Artist: Catherine Dair

Third Edition

OBLIGATIONS OF BLOOD: ANCHORAGE BOOK 3 © 2014 Sandra C. Stixrude

All Rights Reserved.

Published in the United States of America.

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: Obligations of Blood: Anchorage Book 3 is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are fictionalized. Any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Any person depicted in the Licensed Art Material is a model and is being used solely for illustrative purposes.

PUBLISHER

Mischief Corner Books, LLC

Dedication

For my mother, who recognized the storyteller in me long before I was willing to admit to it.

Table of Contents

Title

Copyright

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Epilogue

Dear Reader

Author's Note

About Sandra C. Stixrude

Also by Sandra C. Stixrude

About Mischief Corner Books

Chapter One

Pilot's Log

Liam asked for everyone's patience while he sequestered himself to work with the odd little boxes from the caverns. For a number of days, strange noises and voices issued from the room Father Rasmus had lent him as a work area, while his brothers often hovered near the doorway. Finally, he called everyone together to share what he had learned.

His eyes were shadowed as he asked everyone to make themselves comfortable. Romenel's original party occupied most of the space, all those brave souls who had insisted he needed them along on this strange journey. Marya sat cross-legged on one of the floor cushions, surrounded by her family, her husband Roke at her side, their little daughter, Roya, nestled beside them, their sons Harrel and Feren sprawled beside each other. Romenel's men occupied the other side of the room, his aide de camp, Sergeant Mardis, his scout, Bedaren, and his bodyguards, Tren and Joris.

The room would have been crowded with just his party, but Essi and Lastikka, assigned as Feren and Bedaren's protectors, were both off duty and Father Rasmus joined them, as well.

With a deep breath, Liam began. These boxes are journals. Each one belonged to a different person. There are hours and hours of entries on each box, so I won't ask you to sit through all of it. I've set them up to show you what I feel is important to us. Each entry is a moving picture, as if the person were actually in the room with us, but it's just a picture and a voice from a time long ago. It's all a little strange, and a lot of the things you're going to hear are very distressing. I'm asking you to watch for yourselves, though, because there are a number of things I don't understand. I'm hoping that one of you will be able to, but please let me know if you find any of this too disturbing, and we'll stop.

Thank you, Liam. We'll keep the warning in mind. Romenel looked around the room. Anyone want to bow out now before we start? No shame in that.

No one moved.

Good. Roya, would you come sit with me? I may need someone brave beside me before we're finished.

Roya snuggled in beside him on his floor cushion as Liam set up one of the boxes on the table.

We'll spend the most time with this first one. Her account is the most informative, Liam announced. She is, or rather was, a military officer, and her entries are more precise and to the point. The rest of the people are involved in more specialized occupations, and they tend go on about things I can't begin to decipher.

Liam pressed a circle on the side of the box and sat down next to his mother as the device hummed. Suddenly, the woman who had startled them so badly in the caverns appeared. She sat with her hands folded in front of her on the little white table they had seen there. Liam had the image working properly, and they could see her clearly now—a small, straight figure with short, midnight black hair and a sharp-featured face. Her gray-green eyes looked slightly amused, her mouth curved in the hint of a smile.

She began to speak in a quiet, precise voice. This is the personal log of Captain Martina Escobar, Pilot-Commander of the star cruiser, Helios. She turned her head for a moment as if someone out of the picture were speaking to her. Oh, yes, Emil reminds me that I was the commander of the Helios. Since we have landed, I am no longer pilot or officer. I am just Martina Escobar…

Liam, can you stop it for a moment? Tren's voice trembled.

Liam pressed another circle and the sound stopped, the picture frozen at that moment.

"Quan-vadis, do you hear her? Tren had a hand on Captain Roke's arm. Do you see her?"

I see her, my boy, and she looks oddly familiar, Roke mused.

She looks like you, sir, Tren whispered. "Martina Escobar, Mardina Eschovar… quan-vadis, it's her. The first mother in the Nori line."

Our Tren's right, love, Marya agreed. Look at those eyes, that nose. She could be your twin sister. The sounds may have shifted slightly, but it has to be the same name, as well.

Roke put one arm around Marya and the other around Tren, pulling them with him as he leaned back against the wall. Well, there she is, then. I suppose in a way, the claim that we sing our mother line back to the beginning is true. He shook Tren gently. It's all a bit disconcerting, I know, but this is our history, my boy. Go on, Liam, let's hear what she has to say.

With Liam's touch on the box, she continued, …private citizen. It has been two weeks since we arrived, and the colony is taking shape. We have temporarily occupied underground sites dug out by the auto-borers—individual quarters, the infirmary, meeting hall and the labs. A very practical solution to provide immediate shelter even if some of us—her nose wrinkled—are not entirely comfortable living underground. I should explain that this log is one of ten given by our historian, Sima Kumar, to a cross-section of the community. We are to record events and our personal observations for future generations. Each log also contains a limited amount of data space in which we may download library information from the link to Helios. She stopped and gazed at the ceiling.

My Helios, she murmured. I spent so many years with her, and now she will simply circle this little planet until her orbit decays and she is destroyed by atmospheric friction. It feels… so strange. Then she smiled and moved the device to display a different part of the room. But I brought the best parts with me.

Now the image showed a small, wiry man with dark hair and a bright smile. He waved, grinned, and then returned to his work with some complicated metal device. The image of Captain Escobar returned.

That is Emil Schonauer, my first officer for many years and now my husband. We were married yesterday. She was truly smiling, unselfconsciously, and then she seemed to catch herself and grew more serious again.

The landing was uneventful. All fifty shuttles deployed without major incident, all touched down safely with cargo and passengers intact. The colony currently numbers five thousand three hundred sixty-one adults and children. We fled Earth seven years ago and began the journey with three ships. Only the Helios survived. I have included some of Earth's history in my library files. She tapped the box. "But for those who don't have the patience for the socio-historic holos and text, I will give a brief summary of the events leading up to our escape.

"Earth in the late twenty-second century was controlled by the Conglomerates, five competing groups of multi-armed corporations. Without outside trade, many believe this stagnant economic swamp would have collapsed, but with the Alliance worlds and colony planets to feed and support it, this monstrous arrangement thrived. Our laws, our livelihood, our very existence, were in the hands of the Conglomerate executive boards. Slowly, we had allowed our choices and our rights as free citizens to be eaten away until we had no choices left. Earth's environment was plundered and destroyed in a frenzy of resource exploitation. We lived in atmospheric domes because the air was poisoned, and only the holo pics of blue-green seas and towering forests remained to remind us of how beautiful it had once been. Unless, of course, you were one of the wealthy few and could afford to have your own custom environmental dome constructed. The only animals we had left lived in these private preserves and zoological museums.

I was approached by Dr Hedda Richter some years ago. There was a quietly subversive group of scientists who believed humanity's only chance was to escape, to leave Earth and begin again somewhere new, out from under the control of the merchantocracy. She stopped and listened for a moment again. Emil says that's not a word. Well, I've made a new one. Regardless, I was serving as a Pilot-Commander in the Alta-Ryos merchant fleet at the time. Escort services, occasional skirmishes with off-world pirates and scavengers, defense of company property against saboteurs; these were my primary duties. Dr. Richter said their expedition needed pilots, said they would need my ship, as well. At first, I told her she was insane. She was proposing grand theft of company property, desertion, and breach of contract. I would be court-martialed, imprisoned, and probably executed. When she then said we would be heading out into the uncharted territories, that it would be a search for a new, uninhabited world with no guarantees and no possibility of return, I began to think. It was a chance to do something that mattered on a human level, a chance to be a real person and not just a corporate drone. Maybe it was a little quixotic, but the idea that we could be free… She spread her hands in front of her. It was too tempting.

Emil crossed back into view and added, So we dumped the crew off that didn't agree with us at Triton station, and she got us here. No one else could have. He kissed the top of her head and walked away again.

In brief and without the added editorials, yes. She chuckled. And here we are. The labs are working on starting the agricultural embryos through the accelerated growth cycles. We have grains and various fruits and vegetables, as well as cattle and poultry that should do well here. The horse embryos… She sighed. Had an unfortunate malfunction with their containment crate. They didn't survive. I had so hoped to be able to raise horses here as my ancestors did in Argentina. However, Emil has been spending some time with the local wildlife and he thinks there is a very promising herd animal that may serve as a substitute. Strange animals with long, antelope-like horns and faces almost like capybaras, but long-legged and fast on their three-toed hooves. Emil says they are aggressive, but very intelligent. We are both hopeful. I will log entries faithfully every week unless some noteworthy event happens before then. I must conclude for today, though. My new husband is feeling neglected.

Liam stopped the machine. A lot of unfamiliar words, but I wanted to give you a sense of how this began. I'll skip forward so you don't have to watch every week's entry.

When Captain Escobar reappeared, she still seemed calm and satisfied, but there was a hint of concern in her eyes. Fifth week after arrival. The food plants have not been successful so far. Dr. Richter, acting now as our head of agronomy, is puzzled, since they do equally poorly in the hydroponics and the native soil. She hasn't pinned down the cause yet, but she's confident they'll find it. She did mention the possibility of gene-splicing with native flora. We've found… She offered a wry grin. That we are unable to digest the local plants. Hedda believes a hybrid of some sort may work best. Incidentally, in honor of Hedda and Anton, the lab assistants have renamed their workspace the 'Kasparov Richter Experimental Station'. They seem to find this very funny. I'm afraid I've missed the joke. And then, in the manner of young people, they immediately shortened it, so now the labs are called the 'KRES'. Anton—Dr. Kasparov—has lent Emil one of his lab assistants to help with the domestication of the herd animals, a young man by the name of Zuri Harduk. Emil has decided to call his hoofed friends 'harduks' because he thought calling them 'shonauers' sounded silly.

There was a movement on her left and a little orange leemacat sat down on the table next to her arm, sniffed at the box, and yipped. Captain Escobar laughed. "Allow me to introduce my new friend. I call her Sonrisa because she makes me smile and she seems to like the name. These little friends started to visit our third week here; they seem quite taken with us. Dr. Kasparov has named them 'leemacats' since they share characteristics with both terrestrial cats and lemurs. He also has classified them as animals, a decision with which I must disagree.

They have certain telepathic abilities and can communicate emotions and rudimentary thoughts, if you're willing to listen. They are a sentient alien race, not animals. Sonrisa came when Emil was ill from eating a native apple-shaped fruit. She curled up with him on the bed and he claims that she eased the pain and helped him recover. Anton believes something in their brainwave patterns boosts endorphin production in our bodies and that their therapeutic value is very real. They've become welcome visitors at the infirmary. She laughed again as Sonrisa rubbed her head against her cheek. But Sonrisa insists that she is the only leemacat who is allowed to sleep with Emil and me. None of her sisters will be permitted. And she is hungry, so I must sign off for today.

The next entry Liam showed them began with the captain pacing the room. She looked tired and anxious. Dr. Richter has produced a viable grain hybrid. She calls it a 'native amalgam'. It grows well; it acts like wheat. The problem is, a good percentage of the colony is violently allergic to it, including Emil. He thought he was dying, the stomach cramps were so bad.

She pulled out her chair and sat down heavily. We have had our first casualty. Six-year-old Carly Oldman died this morning. Dr. Lindstrom is trying to determine the cause of death, so far without success. We are all sad to lose someone so young. She rubbed at the side of her face and returned to her first topic. We have enough food supplies from the ship for the first three years, but if we haven't resolved our food supply problems before then… She shrugged, unable to finish the thought.

She leaned forward and continued in a more businesslike tone. "The domestication of the harduks is going well. Emil, Zuri, and I all have an animal willing to accept us as riders. Their training is going forward. Not that we are, any of us, good riders yet. We've studied the manuals and holos extensively over the past few years—we certainly had the time—but we had no practical experience until now. They are, as Emil suspected, intelligent, and have developed distinct attachments to individuals.

Underground housing is now complete for all of our colonists, and communication hook-ups are in place. We can now concentrate on the construction of the school and begin a survey of the continent. This landmass was chosen over the one slightly closer to the polar ice cap for climactic considerations. It's simply warmer. But I have begun to wonder if there might be a difference in available food supplies and soil. I fully intend to survey the other continent when Emil is well again.

There was a pause in which they were able to hear Emil calling weakly from a short distance away, Mar?

My poor Emil is awake now and needs me. The transmission ended abruptly.

Anybody need to stop? Liam inquired before starting the next entry.

I have an uneasy feeling about where this is heading, Marya replied. But go on, dear. This is amazing.

Captain Escobar's image returned, pale and drawn, her arm in a sling. Emil and I have returned from the northern landmass to find an epidemic in progress. Three hundred and four colonists have died, mostly the very young. Dr. Lindstrom still struggles to find the agent of the disease although he is certain it's the same that killed Carly. The onset is sudden. Its course is swift; from diagnosis to the patient's death is usually only two to three days. The disease attacks the red blood cells, affecting their ability to carry oxygen, and the victim essentially suffocates. There is a feeling of quiet panic here. More people have begun to isolate themselves in their quarters.

She sighed and rubbed her eyes. The northern continent appears to be inhabitable, if somewhat colder. The soil samples we brought Dr. Richter do not seem to be significantly different than here, though. I had hoped… well, it doesn't matter. There are the most amazing open spaces there in addition to mountains and wooded terrain. Incredible expanses of open grassland, perfect for herd management. We've also discovered—she indicated her injured arm—that some of the larger predators are very territorial. We were aware of the bear-like carnivores from the initial planetary survey, but we were unprepared for the sudden violence of the attack. Emil had to shoot it five times with his pulse rifle before it let go of my arm. And then it got back up and ran away. It should have been dead. Her mouth curved in a hint of a smile. I'm not sure who was shaking more afterwards, me or Emil.

He appeared behind her, wrapped his arms around her, and laid his head on her uninjured shoulder. I wasn't scared of the predator, Mar; I was terrified of losing you.

She turned her head to kiss him and chided, Hopeless romantic. You should have been making sure the skimmer didn't get damaged.

To hell with the skimmer, he growled and stalked off.

Emil has recently developed the opinion, she explained, that we are too dependent on our technology, that we have a better chance of survival if we re-learn how to do things for ourselves. Captain Escobar shrugged. I tend to agree, but there are certain advantages, especially medically, and I don't see how we'll solve the food problem or stop the epidemic through ancient agricultural methods.

Liam skipped a few entries at that point. In their next glimpse of Martina, her arm had healed.

Dr. Lindstrom has identified the agent of the plague that is decimating our numbers. It is a bacterial agent so small and oddly structured that our normal screening methods were unable to detect it both in the survey and with later diagnostic efforts. It is resistant to all of our antibiotics and appears to exist in every living organism native to the planet. Of those contracting the disease, there is a much higher fatality rate among those that exhibited allergic reactions to the hybrid grains. So, Dr. Lindstrom believes that there may be some natural symbiotic relationship and that the bacteria are only harmful to things not native to the planet. He had hoped it would be as easy as introducing native substances into the system, but among people who have been eating the native amalgam foods, there have also been deaths. We've lost over fifteen hundred people to this disease.

Dark shadows ringed her eyes as she stared into space for a moment, collecting her thoughts. Dr. Kasparov is running tests, as well, with the leemacats. He has discovered that the Crozier factor parallels between our DNA and the leemacats are nearly ninety percent. Somehow, he feels there may be an answer in that. The leemacat embryos he is using as test subjects will have human stem cells introduced at the earliest stages of development. We all hope he can develop a cure before it's too late. A full fifth of the colony lost already. We can't afford too much more. So much expertise is lost with each death. We all have our own pockets of knowledge. How long before the cumulative drain of these losses renders us incapable of survival? She shook her head and ended the transmission.

In the next entry, she looked more hopeful. "Anton has had some success with his experiments. The leemacat cubs are normal and healthy. They seem to have somewhat enhanced telepathic abilities, but otherwise are just like any other leemacat.

Our infant mortality rate has risen to nearly ninety eight percent. Anton has begun introducing leemacat stem cells into human babies in-utero with volunteer expectant mothers. Any chance of saving a baby is worth the risk. We're all waiting anxiously for the results. In the meantime…

The hint of a smile returned. Emil is making attempts to revive the art of blacksmithing. He's constructed a working forge, and though the fire is fed from the solar generators, the rest of it is all muscle and sweat. He's drafted Zuri to assist, poor boy, and I can't say that the physical exercise has been bad for them. Their first attempts were disastrous, but yesterday evening, they presented me with this little knife. She held out an eight-inch blade that appeared crudely hammered, but serviceable. It's not pretty, but it works, and it's sturdy. They're very proud of their efforts, and rightly so. Emil's philosophy is catching, it seems. One of our neighbors told me today that she's constructing a loom, of all things. One way or another, we'll persevere.

And so you did, Captain Roke murmured softly as Liam skipped to the next entry.

Captain Escobar was leaning back in her chair with a worried frown. "Anton's experiments with human infants have proved inconclusive. Some of the infants survived, some did not. He still insists he's on the right track. The leemacats seem to be drawn to the babies that have survived. He doesn't find this significant, but I'm curious as to the reason. Sonrisa can't explain it, but she does call them 'cubs' rather than 'human young' as she does with other babies. That she makes a distinction at all is significant.

On a more positive note, our domestic harduk herd has three new foals. I think if we start working with them early, they will be capable of learning a sizeable number of commands. With their naturally protective tendencies, I think our hoofed friends may serve as extra protection against predators.

There was another pause for a new entry, and now she looked positively grim, her jaw set, her posture rigid.

Hedda Richter died yesterday of the bacterial plague. Anton's mental state has become seriously unbalanced because of her death. He's thrown all of the lab assistants out of the KRES and sealed the doors. We have no way of getting to him, short of blasting the doors open, and we run the risk of killing him that way. All of the labs were lined in plasti-steel for safety reasons and the auto-borers can't even tunnel through. If he had just wanted to die, he could have thrown himself from a cliff or poisoned himself, but this… She folded her hands in front of her. With all of his research and equipment, I'm troubled. He may be planning something… drastic. I've suggested posting guards at the doors. When and if he does come out, who knows what he will bring with him?

Too bad she didn't have us, Harrel chimed in. She could've just forced the doors.

Liam shook his head. I don't think the doors were locked when we forced them, just stuck. We're going to skip a couple of months here…

When the image returned, she was drumming her fingers on the table, perplexed and irritated.

Anton is back among us today. He doesn't seem to have suffered any ill effects other than exhaustion from his isolation. He has been busy, though. During his time alone, Dr. Kasparov combined human and leemacat reproductive cells. He claims what he has created is the future of humankind on this planet and that from this creation, he will be able to develop a serum against the native bacteria. They are strange little things, roughly the size and form of human toddlers, although they're only two months old. Anton says their development is much faster than ours. They are furred and have claws and pads, nocturnal eyes, sharp teeth, and high-set ears with independent movement. Otherwise, limbs, organs, and reactions all appear to be human—roughly so, anyway. I am uncertain whether I consider them hideous or beautiful.

She shrugged. They make me acutely uncomfortable. There are ten of them, all very active. No wonder Anton looks so exhausted. I do wonder what sort of brainwave activity they have inherited from the leemacats, though. Emil took one of the little ones onto his lap while we visited, and he was exhausted when we arrived home. He thinks there's no connection, but I will reserve judgment for now. The lab assistants have been permitted back into the KRES, and they are enchanted with the little ones. Dr. Kasparov's clinical title for them, the KRES native amalgam subjects, has been shortened by his staff to 'kresnas'. It is a bit easier to say.

She startled at a loud thud behind her. Emil, darling, are you all right?

What happened? Romenel asked in alarm, unaware he had become so caught up in the ancient drama.

He fainted, Liam answered. She explained it in her next entry. Their healers said he was just overtired and told him to rest. Captain Escobar still suspected the kresnas children. She seems to have been awfully perceptive.

Naturally, Roke said softly, looking rather smug.

The next picture showed her pacing again. "Two of Anton's lab assistants fell ill yesterday. It's not the plague—Dr. Lindstrom has confirmed it—but Marcus Horenkamp is dead and Chinua Inkebe is comatose. Both big, strong, healthy young men, they simply passed out at work and never woke up. I have suggested to Anton that the kresnas children may be a factor, but he tells me that the notion is absurd.

The little kresnas are having difficulties of their own. Anton is trying to wean them from their infant formula and start them on solid food. So far, without success. The little ones either refuse the food or become violently ill if they try to eat. I am still leery of them, and I wish Anton would run some tests on their brainwave patterns, but I must admit, they are hard to resist. One of the sick ones climbed into my arms this morning, whimpering. I found to my surprise that I was carrying her around the lab with me, stroking her fur. I suffered no ill effects from being in close contact with her, so I am puzzled. And it's not their fault that they're here, poor little things. Most likely they won't survive much longer, anyway.

The image shifted as Liam skipped forward and now she was clearly angry, leaning her clenched fists on the table. Three more dead at the lab. The victims are all young men, all working with the kresnas. There were subtle and gradual signs of fatigue this time, loss of concentration, dizziness, fainting spells, and then they all lapsed into comas and died. She struck the table hard with the flat of her palm. I can't stand by and watch this happening. Some of the male lab assistants have taken my advice and have been avoiding the KRES. Zuri came to see Emil yesterday afternoon and collapsed. If Emil hadn't been there to catch him, he would have fallen into the forge. I've forbidden him to go back to work. I realize I have no authority in that regard, but at least Zuri will listen to me. Emil and I are fond of him, and I won't lose him to Anton's blind stupidity. She uttered a muted, angry sound and whirled to throw something against the far wall, where it hit with a splintering crash.

Mar? Emil's voice could be heard distantly. Please don't break all the mugs today.

When she turned back, she smoothed her hair and took a deep breath to calm herself. We took Zuri to the infirmary. Dr. Lindstrom is running tests today to see if he can determine what's happening to the young men at the lab. Zuri is the first he's had come in prior to the onset of coma. Maybe I'm wrong and this is entirely unrelated to the little kresnas. Maybe it's something in the air filtration system or maybe the youngsters have been brewing some nasty homemade liquor in secret that's proving deadly. I will wait for the results.

She was considerably calmer in the next entry. "Dr. Lindstrom has concluded that the KRES problem is a matter of depressed brainwave activity. The way it was explained to us is that the human brain has four frequency ranges. In the beta cycle, where we spend most of our alert waking hours, the electrical frequency runs at about fourteen to thirty cycles per second; alpha waves represent a relaxed state; theta, at between four to seven cycles, is the near-sleep state; and delta waves are associated with deep sleep. Zuri's brain was hovering at around five cycles per second when we brought him to the infirmary, although he's rebounded to nearly twelve since yesterday. The lab assistants have essentially had their brainwave activity decreased until they become confused and disoriented, finally lapsing