Howl of the Wolf (Heirs to the Throne Book 1) (7 page)

*****

Jarrack seethed with anger. 
They expect to escape the Institute and settle on a backward planet.  I must contact the Institute, but how?  I’ll make sure Donovan dies during Transfer and throw the crew into turmoil. 
Jarrack smirked
knowing that he possessed the means and experience needed to sabotage Transfer.
  That bumbling yokel, Trenton will be no match for me!

The Zebulon landed without complication but the hatches stayed closed while Donovan reported to the Transfer lab.  Sabotaging the machinery proved easy for Jarrack.  When Krystal left the lab to secure supplies, he slipped in and substituted a microcircuit designed to self-destruct when Transfer reached its critical phase. 

Jarrack slipped back into the corridor, keeping the door open a crack to observe the impending chaos. 
This is the best part of my job.  I enjoyed murdering traitors almost as much as I love bending women to my will.  Jenny, that simpering slut in the Transfer lab, was no real challenge.  Forcing erotic dreams into Krystal’s mind will be a genuine pleasure.  Soon I’ll bend her to my will, or failing that, I’ll watch her die.  What a delicious treat!

As Krystal sat in the plastifoam chair, Jarrack imagined caressing the curve of her buttocks.  His pulse beat rapidly. 
Just wait!  You’ll enjoy my attentions, my pretty
.  Footsteps approached and he quietly slipped out of sight.                       

Dr. Alexander and Donovan entered the lab.  “Our last patient is ready,” Alex said. 

Krystal tilted her head to meet Donovan’s gaze and smiled.             

Donovan said, “I’m well-aquatinted with the process of Transfer, doctor.  You don’t need to coddle me.”

“I thought you didn’t trust us,” Alex said.

“It’s not a matter of trust.  A commander never risks his life in space and no one should expect it of me.  We landed safely so proceed.”

“Are we prepared for this ape of a man, Krystal?”

“The Transfer equipment works well regardless of the size of the man, sir.”  Krystal switched on the power supply.  “Please step this way, Captain Donovan.”

Jarrack crept back to the doorway to watch.

The Transfer machine hummed as Chella pushed a floating gurney with Donovan’s clone into position.  Krystal entered Donovan’s statistics while Chella’s long dark fingers hovered over the clone and then Donovan.  She said, “He’s ready, doctor.”

Alex nodded.  “All systems green.  Bring us to full power.”  Dr. Alexander watched readings as the system powered up.  “Begin Transfer.” 

Light glowed over Donovan as the machine absorbed his mind. 

“Shift focus,” Alexander ordered and Donovan’s body went limp.  Suddenly the lights flickered, and the steady hum of power dipped to an erratic buzz. 

“We’re losing power,” Alex said, slamming his fist down.

Krystal’s fingers flew over her touch screen.  “Life signs are dropping.  Nothing’s responding!” she shouted.  Donovan’s clone displayed no sign of life, the young face, flawless and smooth, looked just like the man she’d met spans ago. 

Dr. Alexander worked, frantic to save his patient, but his hands held steady, and his demeanor remained professional and calm.  Only the furious expression on his face betrayed his anguish.

A movement near the door drew Krystal’s attention.  Someone watched from the hallway—it was Jarrack.  She cringed with fear until anger erupted inside her and burned like white-hot fire.  She broke free of the artificial amnesia imposed by his evil mind.  Pain shot through her forehead but Krystal blocked his touch and remembered everything. 

Jarrack’s black eyes glinted with malice.  He frowned, turned away, and ran down the corridor. 

Krystal screamed, “Jarrack tried to kill me at the spaceport and now he’s killing Donovan!” 

With the return of her short-term memory, Krystal sensed the minds around her, Dr. Alexander’s misery, Chella’s frustration, and Donovan’s dwindling life force. Pulsing sensations filled her mind, and she felt glad. 

Warning bells clanged. 

Krystal rushed forward and pounded the plasteel Transfer equipment with clenched fists.  Donovan struggled to live, and Krystal knew she must free him from that blasted machine.  She concentrated, and her mind pierced the plasteel shell and sliced through a sizzling energy field.  Suddenly Krystal saw herself standing inside a maze of wires, circuits, and pulsating power.  Instinctively she dodged fluorescent arcs of light that rippled and hissed like snakes. 

My mind’s inside the machine!  Donovan!  Where are you
?
she called out, and her mental voice echoed through the machinery.  She felt Donovan’s mind and pushed through tangled wires onto a spongy surface.  She focused on an image of Donovan as a young officer and felt a flicker from his mind.  The vision stabilized.  He stood trapped behind a shimmering wall of crystal, his eyes begging for help. 

Tentatively she touched the wall with her fingertips and static electricity zapped her hand away.  She shook her hand and wondered how she could get through.  Donovan looked like a ghost behind the wall, his skin nearly translucent while Krystal’s hand appeared solid. 

That’s it!  I’m too solid to penetrate the wall.  Can I merge with the crystal and reach Donovan?  I must get through before I lose him!

Krystal imagined herself as a soap bubble, light and airy.  She lifted off her feet and floated like a strong breath might hurl her through space. 
Good! Now let’s try again.
  She tentatively touched the crystal with ghostly fingertips, and her hand slipped through the wall.  Gathering courage, she plunged forward and popped through the crystal barrier.  

Inside a crystal chamber, Krystal saw reflections of her own memories. 
Does the mendilium crystal absorb our memories?  Is that how Transfer works?  The machine collects memories until it absorbs an entire life? 
Fear stabbed her chest. 
Donovan’s memories might get trapped inside the crystal!
  Realizing the danger, Krystal knew she must find him fast!
 

Donovan! 

A face appeared on the crystal surface, Donovan grinned with starburst wrinkles around friendly green eyes, and he reached out a hand to her.  This time Krystal touched his fingertips with a smile. 

He became solid. 

She thought,
We must gather your memories.  The crystal absorbs pieces of your subconscious until you are gone.
  He stroked her hair with a shy smile. 
I’ll help you—just concentrate. 

She linked with his mind and shared his memories. 

A young cadet, Donovan ran through the woods.  He squinted against spears of light that pierced the dense growth.  A bead of sweat trickled down his cheek and dripped from his furrowed brow.  Suddenly a small man darted out and strong arms locked around his knees.  The force of the blow sent Donovan tumbling.  Trenton looked up, his face grinning.  He said, “Never underestimate the power of an opponent, even one smaller than yourself, lad.” 

In another memory Donovan sat inside the cockpit of a sleek aircraft, his hands working the controls.  He gazed down the slender nose of the fighter into a black velvet panorama broken by pinpricks of distant light.  A dazzling flash activated his visor shield, and his hands reacted with incredible speed.  Another flash pierced the sky—this time from his own aircraft—and the enemy craft exploded in a sparkling arc of color against the black void of space.  Donovan felt mesmerized by the swirling glow of magnificent colors, blue, gold, violet, and red.   

Entering the first ship he would command, Donovan felt overwhelmed.  The reflection of his gold uniform rippled along highly polished surfaces as he walked briskly down the corridor.  Pushing fingertips like a comb through his auburn hair, he took a deep breath and entered the bridge to meet his crew.  He smiled as he recognized his friend, Trenton.

Finally, Donovan gazed into Krystal’s frightened face.  She looked incredibly beautiful, vulnerable, and desirable.  Compelled to draw her into his arms, he held out his hand and watched her recoil in fear.  He withdrew his outstretched hand, reeling from the rejection. 

Krystal’s heart throbbed. 
It wasn’t you.  I’d been hurt and frightened by Jarrack.
  She gently pulled him into a warm kiss.  They gathered more pieces of Donovan’s life, examined the pieces together, and shared the pain and the joy. 

She realized that Donovan was a man she could love, so Krystal opened her mind and shared a few of her own memories with him. 

A small flame sputtered in a ceramic bowl, surrounded by Krystal’s long fingers.  She wiped a dripping tendril of hair away from her brow.  The flame flickered then disappeared as her concentration waned. 

Sheila laughed.  “Don’t worry, Krystal, you’ll master the flame before you leave Zeltron.  Not many off-worlders learn to create even the smallest flicker.  I was raised in the faith, yet I was twelve before I created my first flame.” 

Krystal tried again and soon the flame glowed brightly, reflected in her eyes. 

Her next memory was on the ice planet Detron.  Frigid wind burned the exposed skin of Krystal’s face.  Tightly bundled in furs, she breathed into a thick scarf to retain body heat and wished she could feel the heat of Zeltron—ten minutes would be enough to warm her frozen fingers—as she squinted through tinted goggles.  Sheets of ice stretched beyond the horizon, unbroken, like a frozen desert with no sign of civilization ahead.  

Throwing her weight against the sled handles, she propelled its dead weight forward.  The woman on the sled would die without the kind of medical help available at the clinic.  Placing one numb foot in front of the other, Krystal forced the sled to move. 

“I’ll get you there,” she promised.  Her words were stolen by the icy wind and hurled across the barren landscape.  She bent to touch her patient but there was no sign of life.  Overwhelmed by a sense of failure, she realized she was alone—the only living being on this frozen sheet of ice.  Pulling a dagger from its sheath, Krystal sliced off her braid in Detron’s traditional mourning ritual and stared at the blade in her hand. 

Why not end it all now?
 
This war creates thousands of corpses, and destroys small worlds like Detron.  Why not escape the pain and frustration?
  Tears trickled down her cheeks and froze. 
No.  A healer does not take life, especially her own.
  Krystal dropped the knife into her pack and continued across the frozen waste to safety.

Donovan squeezed Krystal’s hand and drew her closer as they shared another memory.

Spacelab duty felt dull, monotonous.  Krystal longed for carefree time downworld.  Even the discomforts of disagreeable climates were better than the boredom of space duty.  She glanced into the mirror. 

Maybe I should try a new hair color next Transfer
, she thought but shook her head. 
No.  A new assignment is what I need
.  The fad of changing hair or eye color with each Transfer had grown as tiresome as her dull lifestyle.  At least wispy blond hair established a sense of identity, sorely lacking these days, where her ID listed a first name and number. 

The comline flashed and she read a message from Dr. Alexander. 
He wants me to join the Zebulon crew! 
She accepted the new assignment with hope and relief. 

Krystal shared the clash with Jarrack and Donovan helped purge her terror. 

Inside the crystal chamber they developed the kind of love that usually took years to cultivate.  Their experiences meshed and their minds gained strength. 

Mental voices called from outside, Donovan thought,
They want us to come back.

I know.
  Krystal stroked his thick brow with her fingertips. 

I don’t want to leave.  I might lose you,
Donovan thought.

Impossible, darling, but if we don’t leave this chamber we may both die.

Donovan scrutinized the solid crystal wall with concern. 
How do we get out?

I pushed my way inside so we can find a way out.”
Krystal pressed her hands against the barrier but nothing happened.  She imagined herself as a ghostly figure, but shared memories made the two of them too solid to pass through the walls.

Let’s follow the wall.  Perhaps it’s a maze.
  She clasped Donovan’s hand and they ran through twisted corridors.  Each corridor ended in a barrier that blocked their path.  They felt tired, drained, as the throbbing crystal threatened to absorb them.

Angry, Krystal pounded on the wall. 
Let us out!
  Her mental scream bounced back like an echo. 
You’re just a machine!  Let us out!
  Anger leaked from her fingertips and formed a white-hot ball of energy that vibrated in her hands.  Impulsively, she threw the energy-ball at the wall and smashed a hole in the crystal.  Crackling lines radiated from the puncture.

Krystal grinned.
Imagine a ball of energy—a ball you can throw at the wall.
  She created more energy-balls and Donovan followed her lead.  As they hurled missiles against the shimmering walls of their prison, the crystal cracked and shattered.  Suddenly a whirlwind swirled inside the crystal and wrenched them from the chamber. 

The crystal exploded. 

Krystal passed through ruptured plasteel, fused circuits, and melted wires, as her mind was ripped from the machine.  Her body collapsed onto the floor.  She desperately searched for Donovan’s mind and found him, languishing in the pleasure of his touch until they abruptly lost contact. 

“Donovan!” she screamed aloud and opened her eyes.  She lay on a table in the recovery room, and Donovan was on the next table.  His breathing seemed normal and his skin color looked healthy as he slept. 

Exhausted, Krystal relaxed, let herself drift.

Noises filtered through a haze as Dr. Alexander barked orders.  The sound of glass scraping the floor grated her nerves. 
What are they doing? Can’t they be quiet and let me sleep?
She almost gathered enough strength to ask, but her mind drifted lazily between consciousness and sleep.  Someone lifted her body, carried her away from Donovan.  She felt too tired to object and grew calm when Maggie took her hand.  Krystal slept with her fingers wrapped tightly in Maggie’s warm hand, finally feeling safe and protected.

*****

Donovan woke with a start.  Trying to move, he strained against straps that restrained his body against the table. 

“What have you done to me?” he bellowed.  “Are you completely incompetent?”                  

Chella entered the room.  She flashed a benign smile and recorded readings from the monitor above his head, unconcerned. 

Donovan growled, “Where’s that imbecile doctor?  Get him immediately!  That’s an order!”  Chella arched one eyebrow and left the room.

“That’s insubordination!” he shouted at the door.  Dr. Alexander entered the room, picked up the data recorder and nodded. 

Donovan snarled, “Where’s Krystal?  Where have you taken her?  Let me loose!  That’s an order!”

Dr. Alexander’s placid expression remained unchanged.  “As a patient, you are under my orders, Captain.  Should you wish to be released, I suggest you demonstrate signs of self-control.  When I’m convinced you are capable of managing your body, you will be released.”  Alex continued to study the data recorder as Donovan strained against the restraints.  With a sigh, he forced himself to breathe deeply, relax, and gain control.