Solaris Soars

Solaris Saga book 4

Janet McNulty

This is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents within are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or location is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

Solaris Soars

Copyright © 2015 Janet McNulty

Cover Copyright © 2024 Janet McNulty

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

Library of Congress Control Number: 2015912523

At long last the final book in the Solaris Saga is finished. I want to thank all of you for joining Rynah on this adventure of hers. I hope you enjoy the ending and had as fun reading it as I had writing it.

Thank you.

Don’t miss any part of this space adventure. Get the entire series.

Solaris Seethes

Solaris Seeks

Solaris Strays

Solaris Soars

Or Get it on Audio.

Contents

Title Page

Chapter 1 Tre Found

Chapter 2 Small Acts

Chapter 3 Aftermath

Chapter 4 Hole in Time

Chapter 5 A Trip to the Past

Chapter 6 At the Construction Site

Chapter 7 Merrick and Stein

Chapter 8 Thrust Back to the Present

Chapter 9 Going Forward

Chapter 10 A Video and a Message

Chapter 11 A Lanyran on Earth

Chapter 12 A Desert Road

Chapter 13 Dark Holdings

Chapter 14 Next

Chapter 15 Starlit Words

Chapter 16 Achilai

Chapter 17 Destination Reached

Chapter 18 Plans

Chapter 19 A Ride

Chapter 20 Lunar Outing

Chapter 21 Crimson Sands

Chapter 22 A Test for Merrick

Chapter 23 Mysterious Deep

Chapter 24 Merrick’s Last Act

Chapter 25 Decisions

Chapter 26 Among Ruins

Chapter 27 Mysterious Pyramid

Chapter 28 A Battle and a Reunion

Chapter 29 Heroes’ Stance

Chapter 30 The Dragon Ship

Chapter 31 Solon’s Return

Chapter 32 Alfric’s Return

Chapter 33 Brie’s Return

Chapter 34 Tom’s Return

Chapter 35 Rynah’s Peace

Epilogue

Appendices

Thank you for reading!

About the Author

More From This Author

General Delmar steered the ship towards the lone, abandoned-looking space station before him; the beacon grew stronger as they neared the floating pile of welded debris that resembled a crushed aluminum can more than a space station. Hylne sat in the seat next to him, watching the proceedings and keeping constant watch on the proximity gauges.

It appears he has defensive measures in place, said Hylne. You’re sure this time that this is him? It looks deserted.

Something tells me we are about to find out, replied General Delmar. He placed a thin metal band on his head, connecting himself telepathically to the ship. A laser cannon sent a blast at them; it exploded just off the hull, doing no damage, but jilting the ship to the left a bit.

Hylne placed the second metal band on his head. I think he isn’t happy to see us.

General Delmar didn’t respond. He directed the ship to veer to the left, but stay clear of the laser cannons. Another blast echoed around them, this time closer. As General Delmar studied the map, pinpointing the laser cannons in relationship to the space station, he realized that a small path lay in the middle, which would have been missed by most, but his skilled eyes noticed it.

Follow these coordinates. He pictured in his mind the path he wished the ship to go in.

Affirmative, replied the ship in a robotic tone.

More cannon blasts detonated around them as every cannon fired. Though they had been aimed so that any in the special path (the same one that Rynah had directed Tom to take when they were there weeks before) would not be harmed, the constant bombardment of the explosions’ shockwave jostled the ship, forcing both Hylne and General Delmar to control their queasy stomachs.

I think he’s on to us, Hylne said through the telepathic link.

General Delmar lined up the crosshairs of his weapon on one of the cannons. Fire, but do not damage the station.

The ship released an ionic missile at its directed target; the laser cannon burst into flames, broke away from its anchor, and floated out into space.

There’s the docking bay, General Delmar said, finding a small port that looked more like a small conclave of deteriorated metal.

Reading General Delmar’s thoughts, Hylne lined the ship with the docking arm, maneuvering the vessel into position until he heard the clamps snap into place, clacking and locking as they went, and the pressurized seal hissed as it locked in the breathable air. We’re locked.

General Delmar threw off the metal band and popped open the hatch.

Delmar! Hylne tossed off his metal band and ran after his friend. You don’t know what’s out there. He unhooked his laser pistol from its holster and held it up. We should proceed with caution.

General Delmar grunted. He had had enough with being careful. Caution had gotten those he cared about killed. Caution has resulted in the deaths of billions of innocent lives. Caution is what killed Nula, a woman whose only crime was helping him and Hylne after their shuttle had crashed on an uncharted planet.

The hell with caution, he thought to himself as he pulled out his own laser pistol and peeked around the corner of the opened hatch into the musty darkness beyond. His boots left soft clomps on the metal grate floor as he crept through the dingy corridor, all the while remaining aware of his surroundings.

Drip! Drip!

General Delmar looked up at a leaky pipe above him that allowed pin-sized drops of water to fall to the floor, pooling in a rusted, tin bowl, its edges eaten away by rot. Only the sound of the life support system humming in the background could be heard. General Delmar motioned for Hylne to approach the right side of the end of the hallway. Hylne did so. Both peered around the edge, but saw no sign of an inhabitant, just a pile of torn boxes, moth-eaten blankets, mold-filled tarps, and rusted pipes forming a mound up to the ceiling, with screws and nails scattered about in front of it.

A second dilapidated pile of rusted and chipped pans tumbled downward; their clinking and clanking reverberated off the copper sheeting on the walls, forcing them to hunker low in case it drew the attention of the space station’s lone inhabitant. Delmar pointed at the noise. Hylne nodded in affirmation and stepped out from behind a pile of scrap metal. Still no sign that anyone lived there.

Movement caught Hylne’s eye. He burst from where he hid and chased the flurry of movement as it dashed behind a door with General Delmar right behind him. They chased the mysterious figure through the kitchens (filled with orange fruit that seemed to blink at them and have wavy arms, food encrusted pans, more rusted containers full of murky water, and some sort of netting that moved with each draft) and into a room full of holomonitors, screens, and holokeypads.

Stop! yelled General Delmar.

The figure continued to run down a long grime-coated hallway and around a bend. General Delmar and Hylne chased after the man, their feet pounding the metal grates with each long stride. As they rounded the corner, they stopped. The figure they had been chasing stood beneath a light, facing them and holding a weapon.

Panting, General Delmar studied the weapon in the man’s arms and chuckled.

A potato gun?

No, it’s real, threatened the man, whom you know as Tre.

What? asked Hylne. You seriously thought you could threaten us with a potato gun?

It’s real! shouted the agitated man, his baggy pants rustling with each frantic movement.

Sure it is, scoffed Hylne.

General Delmar held up his hand, stopping Hylne.

Tre? he asked, his tone uncertain.

Who wants to know? demanded the strange man.

Well, we do, obviously, snapped Hylne.

Tre’s anxious face twitched. He hated sarcasm.

Are you, or are you not, Tre? General Delmar asked, his tone more serious.

I want to know how you got here, said Tre.

That’s not important, replied General Delmar.

I mean it,—Tre raised his potato gun—tell me how you got here, or I’ll fire this at you.

Careful, Delmar, laughed Hylne, he’s armed.

Not liking the man who had spoken, and the fact that he had always wanted to shoot someone with a potato from his modified, high powered potato gun (his own design, of course), Tre fired his weapon, sending a medium-sized brown potato right at Hylne and striking him in the lower abdomen. Surprised at how the wind had been knocked out of him, Hylne doubled over and crumpled to the floor, gripping the area where the potato had left a bruise the size of a softball. Tre tossed his potato gun aside.

You’re not going to test it on me as well? asked General Delmar with a raised eyebrow.

Nah, said Tre, it only holds the one potato. And I forgot to grab a spare.

Let me at him! Having recovered from his initial shock at being struck by a root vegetable, Hylne lunged for Tre, but General Delmar stopped him. He fired a potato at me!

You deserved it, said General Delmar, restraining his friend. He turned back to Tre, holding up his laser pistol. Now, you never answered my question. Are you Tre?

Yes, yes! said Tre, his tone sharp. Why do you want to know? And why are you here?

We’re looking for Rynah, said General Delmar.

Tre’s eyes widened. He had never thought that someone would come searching for Rynah.

Why? he asked, wary of the intentions of these strangers that barged into his space station uninvited.

She needs our help, replied General Delmar.

Tre did not answer for several minutes, until Hylne pushed him.

Do you know where she is, or not?

I don’t know anyone by that name, lied Tre.

"Brestyranan!" shouted Hylne, using a word that, when translated for polite society, meant horse manure, not believing Tre’s feigned ignorance as he glared into the man’s eyes and the deception within them.

I swear! Tre yelled, stepping back.

Angered, and still sore from having been struck by a potato, Hylne snatched the potato gun from the floor and a nearby can and rammed it into the weapon, which was quite a feat, considering that a potato gun wasn’t meant to hold tin cans. He aimed it at Tre, but before he could fire, General Delmar lunged for him, giving Tre the opportunity he needed to run away.

What are you… began Hylne, but stopped as he watched Tre disappear.

Both General Delmar and Hylne chased after him, but Tre darted to the side, pulling a lever, and jerked to the left, diving through an open hatch. A hoard of plastic wrapping, papers, empty cans, and nylon netting dropped from the ceiling as another hatch opened, covering them and forcing them to the floor. Hylne jumped up and dove through the hatch Tre had entered.

I got him! he shouted, grabbing hold of what he thought were Tre’s feet and pulling hard, but it wasn’t Tre he had in his grasp.

A dummy? said General Delmar.

I’m going to kill him, growled Hylne, tossing the paper-stuffed dummy aside.

The stomping of heavy feet echoed above them. Both Hylne and General Delmar looked up. Above them, on a walkway, was Tre running for another open hatch.

How did… Hylne said before his voice trailed off.

The hell with this. Pulling out his laser pistol, General Delmar aimed for the walkway supports and fired. The connected joints separated and the walkway lurched, flinging Tre forward, before breaking away and forcing him to tumble downward where he landed in a pile of trash.

Before he had a chance to scurry away, General Delmar and Hylne rushed the mound of garbage and seized him.

All right! All right! You got me! shouted Tre, flinging his arms.

Where is Rynah? demanded General Delmar.

I don’t…

Enough of this foolishness, said General Delmar.

Bins and kribbits… she finds me and now everyone shows up, mumbled Tre.

Where! General Delmar shouted, his tone dark.

I don’t know her exact location, said Tre. I haven’t heard from her in over a week.

Where did her last communication originate from? asked General Delmar. It is imperative that we find her.

Tre led them back to his computer room, lit with holoscreens and depicting images from space, mathematical algorithms, and lines of nonsensical text.

The last communication I had from her came from these coordinates, Tre said as he brought up a star map and circled where Rynah had been when he had last spoken to her.

That’s the border of the Terra Sector, said Hylne. What was she doing there?

She said that someone named Stein was heading to a planet called Earth, the same planet that those aliens were from, and that she intended to stop him.

Aliens? asked Hylne.

Gangly creatures, said Tre, "except for one; strong as a vilryr he was, big and muscular, and unyielding. They had pale skin, but one, he had skin the color of the furthest reaches of space. Not from the Twelve Sectors, I can tell you that much."

Obiah was telling the truth, said Hylne.

It would seem so, said General Delmar. Do you have the location for this… Earth?

According to my research, and in conjunctions with the location of her last communication, it should be here. Tre pulled up another star map, pointing at where he believed the planet was. But, you will need more than the location of a planet to find her.

What do you mean? asked General Delmar.

Planets are huge, replied Tre. If she landed on it, you will need someone who can pinpoint her location from even the smallest of interstellar communications. Now unless you know someone… Tre let his voice trail off as he leaned back in his chair, placing his hands behind his head.

You’re right, said General Delmar.

Of course, I’m right, replied Tre.

Which is why you’re coming with us, General Delmar said.

Exactly… what? Tre bolted upright in his chair. No-no-no-no, I’m not.

Tre waved his hands in front of him in an attempt to stop General Delmar from grabbing him, but it proved useless.

Both Hylne and General Delmar snatched Tre from his chair and dragged him back to their ship.

Get off me! yelled Tre. I’m not leaving here! I’m not—

It’s time you experienced the real universe, said General Delmar, his grip remaining firm, despite Tre’s frantic struggles. They marched down the metal hallways to their ship and plopped Tre in one of the chairs once inside. Tre made a frantic dash for the exit, but Hylne had closed the hatch just as he reached it.

This is kidnapping, you know, said Tre.

Both Hylne and General Delmar ignored his rants and settled in the pilot and co-pilot seats.

Take us to the coordinates Rynah said she was headed, General Delmar ordered.

I will not… whoa, said Tre, noticing the advanced technology of the ship. This isn’t your standard Lanyran vessel.

Actually, said General Delmar, we think it is Ancient Lanyran, or older.

Ancient Lanyran? Tre hopped around the shuttle, mimicking a squirrel with his movements, investigating each button, control, crevice, light, and window. Extraordinary, he breathed.

We need those coordinates, grumbled Hylne.

Yes, yes, I’m coming. Tre hurried to the pilot’s console and typed in the location for Earth. This is where she said she was headed. I hope this ship is fast, though, because we might be too late. Tre crossed his arms, forgetting that he had not wanted to come aboard in the first place.

General Delmar started the engines, rechecked the coordinates, and separated the craft from the docking arm. After navigating away from the space station and its hazards, he jumped into hyperspeed, hoping they weren’t too late.

The escape pod bounced and shook from the force of re-entry; flames engulfed it, heating the outer hull to 2,966 degrees Fahrenheit. Sweat trickled down their faces as they plunged even further, punching through the upper layers of the atmosphere until they had reached the troposphere. Land came into view. Obiah steered the escape pod as best as he could; the force of re-entry had damaged the navigational controls. He punched in the coordinates that Klanor had given him, but the computer refused to recognize them; instead, it directed him to what it had mapped as the next closet location.

I don’t think that we are going to make it to our targeted destination, said Obiah.

Do the best you can, Klanor replied. He glanced at Rynah, who still hadn’t opened her eyes since receiving her wound.

The pod lurched as it dropped. They fell with increasing speed. Obiah steered them towards their destination, hoping that they would reach it, or at least get very close to it, before striking the ground. He set the controls as the ground neared.

1,000 feet.

Checking the navigation grid, Obiah frowned, as he knew that they would not even come close to the targeted coordinates.

800 feet.

The ground neared, growing closer and closer, filling the window.

400 feet.

Strap in! said Obiah, fastening the safety harness around himself while Klanor strapped Rynah in her seat, securing the harness before taking care of himself.

The pod smashed into the ground, creating a crater the size of a house; plumes of dirt filled the sky, raining rocks upon any below. The impact jostled them, grinding their teeth together. When all had stilled, Obiah unhooked his restraints and kicked open the hatch, releasing the pressurized air inside. Shaking himself back to his senses, Klanor undid his safety harness as well and rushed over to Rynah. She hadn’t stirred. He lifted her out of the pod, stepping out into the morning sunlight. Warmth, with a hint of a chill, filled it, telling any who paid attention that the season was changing.

How is she? asked Obiah as he searched the landscape, seeing no buildings or signs of civilization.

Not good, said Klanor. The wound appears to be closed, but she is very weak.

Obiah looked at Rynah’s face—her eyes fluttered before closing again—checking her pulse and feeling her forehead for a temperature.

She needs medical attention.

He went back into the escape pod and tried its communicator, but only static greeted him when he turned it on. Throwing it against the dash, he cursed and stepped back out into the sunlight.

We’re on our own down here.

Not completely, said Klanor. We had discussed going to this New Mexico before getting separated. Rynah and the others believed that there is a Lanyran hiding on this planet.

Impossible, scoffed Obiah.

They didn’t think so.

Well, we need to know where we are.

Klanor spotted a silhouette in the sun’s rays. I think I might be able to help with that. Carrying Rynah, he and Obiah walked over to the sign, and as he read it, he realized that they were only six miles from the nearest city.

Six miles, said Obiah.

According to my conversions, Klanor replied, "one of their miles is two of our hilyrs."

Can you…

I’m fine, said Klanor, interrupting Obiah as he strengthened his hold on the unconscious Rynah. We should follow this sign. Where’s there’s a city, there is a medical facility.

How are we to enter it? asked Obiah. I doubt that they will treat her.

We’ll figure that out when we get there, replied Klanor, determined to not lose Rynah.

They walked down the pavement, as bits of silt drifted across it in the wind, each hoping that Rynah would not get any worse.

* * *

Get them back! ordered Jifdar, pacing the floor of the bridge of his ship. Stein’s interruption of his communication with Solaris and the others disturbed him, and he intended to see to it that it could not happen again.

How did he do it? Jifdar’s thick-soled boots clomped hard on the metal grates that made up the floor of his ship, sending echoes of his frustration to every crevice. Well?

I’m sorry, captain, said the pirate in charge of communications, but I cannot raise them. Whomever intruded upon our communications has seen to it that we cannot contact anyone.

Jifdar cursed. He stalked back and forth, fuming and muttering to himself—his way of figuring out a problem—but no solution came to him. His fellow pirates watched his movements, taking care to stay out of his way.

Captain, said Heller, his first mate.

Yes, what is it?

You need to see this.

Heller turned on the holographic view screen; images of exploding ships filled it, as another pulled in a shuttlecraft with its tractor beam. Curious as to why Stein would eliminate his own ships, Jifdar watched as vessels of the same size and class were reduced to bits and pieces that burned in the Earth’s atmosphere.

What is all this? he asked.

We do not know why, but it appears that a rift has opened between Fredyr Monsooth and Stein, but that isn’t what interests me.

Heller zoomed in on the holoscreen, bringing up the image of a small craft (the escape pod with Rynah, Klanor, and Obiah) as it fell to the planet below.

Are… Jifdar let his voice trail off.

I don’t know.

Jifdar studied the playback of the images. He hadn’t heard from any of them, but did not wish to send a search party down since he did not know where to begin looking.

Keep trying to raise them. Is there something else? Jifdar asked his first mate when the man did not move.

I keep thinking, said Heller, perhaps the time has come for us to leave before we suffer the fate of those ships. He pointed at the floating debris and skeletal remains of Fredyr Monsooth’s vessels.

We are not going anywhere until I know what has happened to Rynah, said Jifdar.

Heller nodded and stalked off, leaving Jifdar to ponder his actions.

* * *

Nurse Betty walked out of the side exit to the hospital, cigarettes in hand. She knew she shouldn’t smoke, but the stress of her job (20-hour shifts, changes in federal regulations, doctors who thought they knew everything and balked at her common sense, and patients who continued committing the same stupid acts that landed them in the hospital in the first place) made developing the habit easy. She tapped the pack of cigarettes upside down, popping one addictive slender, paper-wrapped tobacco and tar cancer-causing waste of money into her hands.

I wish I could quit these, she whispered to herself as sirens blared around her, bringing another emergency victim to the hospital.

Nurse Betty ignored it. She was on her break, and needed it after working three back-to-back trauma cases. She stared at the cigarette in her fingers. She had tried everything to quit—patches, gum, even binging on hamburgers and ice cream, which made her gain 30 pounds—but none of it worked.

When she had finished nursing school and landed her first job at a hospital, Nurse Betty had thought she could touch people’s lives and change the world, until reality hit. Most just looked upon her, if they looked at her at all, as another product of a troubled health care system. The politicians used her as an excuse to pass more laws, which helped them more than the people she tended on a daily basis, and others just cursed her for refusing to let them have their dose of whatever substance they were addicted to, which had put them in the hospital to begin with.

Once married, Nurse Betty had been happy, but a miscarriage and a husband who abandoned her for someone else ripped it away from her. Only her cigarettes provided any sense of consistency in her life. So that was when the habit started.

Nurse Betty—a name she received from a dying patient who had spent too many hours watching Star Trek reruns and referred to her as Nurse Chapel until she got him to change it to her real name— stuck the cigarette in her mouth and prepared to light it. The bushes next to her rustled. Wondering if some junkie was trying to break into the hospital for drugs, something that happened on a weekly basis, she investigated the noise. More rustling. Reaching into her pocket, Nurse Betty pulled out her pepper spray.

I know you’re there, she called. If you need medical attention, you must go to the front desk.

Movement was the only response she received. Nurse Betty ripped the branches to the side, holding her bottle of pepper spray in front of her ready to fire and exposing three people with purple faces. She dropped her can of mace and the unlit cigarette fell from her open mouth. Two pairs of eyes stared at her, while the third—alien?—remained unconscious.

Please, said one, we need your help.

You, you speak English, said Nurse Betty. She had no way of knowing that each of the strangers before her had been injected with nanobots that worked with the speech and language centers of the brain, translating different languages and helping them find the proper words to say.

She’s wounded and needs immediate medical attention, said one. Will you help us?

But… the news says that you are dangerous. Nurse Betty bit her tongue for saying that last statement; it might provoke them.

Please, said the other, holding the woman, his pleading and sad eyes locked with hers.

Her reasons for becoming a nurse 25 years ago, and her desire to help others, rushed back to her, pushing her fears aside. Nurse Betty held the branches of the bush back, allowing them to walk through it. She looked around (no one paid them any attention) and opened the staff door to the hospital building, thankful that the hallway was empty, though for how long, she didn’t know. She ushered them inside. Taking the lead, Nurse Betty hurried down the corridor to a room she knew had been vacated an hour before. She wasn’t worried about the security cameras, especially since the man who monitored them could be found sleeping during his shift.

Stay here, she told them when they had entered the room. I’ll be back in a few minutes.

Putting themselves in her hands, they retreated into the darkened room and waited.

Nurse Betty ran to the supply closet, gathered what she could, and hurried back to where she had left her surprise visitors.

Betty.

She stopped. Her supervisor had noticed her running around and came to confront her about it. She hid the vials of medicine and bandages behind her back, scrunching against the wall and hoping that her supervisor didn’t notice.

I need you in room 115, said her supervisor.

I’m busy, replied Nurse Betty.

Busy? her supervisor gave her a piercing stare, her irritation at being rebuffed evident.

Yeah, busy, Nurse Betty repeated in a more forceful tone.

She and her supervisor had never gotten along; her supervisor always ordered the nurses in her charge about, while keeping the easier, and more mundane, tasks for herself.

I’m on my break right now and have 15 minutes left, where I intend to get a few winks after having been here all night. I’ll be there when it’s over.

Break? I need you…

Why don’t you get Charlene to do it? You’ll find her in the closet with the janitor.

We’ll have words later, growled the supervisor as she walked off, disappearing down the hallway.

Nurse Betty hurried into the room where her uninvited guests waited for her to return, locking the door behind her. The two purple men stood up; the woman never moved.

I got supplies.

She hurried over to the woman, admiring her heliotrope-colored skin, which formed a stark contrast to the darker purple shade of the other two. Nurse Betty decided that even on another world, different skin pigmentation would surface.

How long has she been unconscious? she asked.

Several hours, said one.

Nurse Betty’s gentle hands cut the material away from the wound, cleaned it, and stitched it closed where it had reopened.

I know this is probably stating the obvious, but you all aren’t from around here. Who are you, exactly, and why are you wanted by the FBI?

The two men remained silent.

No point in not talking, quipped Nurse Betty. We’re a little beyond that.

My name is Obiah, said one, with caution, this is Klanor, and she is Rynah. As for why we are wanted by your law enforcement, that’s a long story.

I need to do a blood transfusion, said Nurse Betty. She’s lost a lot, and if your physiology is anything like ours, she needs more.

Our bodies typically have anywhere from eight to ten pints, said Obiah.

Blood type? asked Nurse Betty. Here some people are O positive or negative, or AB…

Take mine, said Klanor, rolling up his sleeve.

You two need to be an exact match, or…

Not for us, said Klanor. On Lanyr, everyone has the same basic blood type. Now, do what you need to do.

Nurse Betty grabbed a blood bag, tearing it free of its plastic wrappings, and hooked it up, after inserting a needle into Klanor’s vein, so that his blood filled it. Once done, she placed a needle in Rynah’s arm and allowed the collected blood to enter her system. Nurse Betty hated doing it this way, since blood was usually separated into blood cells, platelets, and plasma, but she didn’t have the time and Rynah needed it now, nor did she wish to get caught harboring fugitives. While she worked, Obiah and Klanor told her their story.

So, this Stein guy means to destroy all of us? she asked. Why? What did we ever do to him?

You’ve done nothing, but that doesn’t matter. He wants some sense of justice, said Obiah.

It’s my fault, Klanor spoke up. I was the one who planted the idea of the crystals in his head. It was I who promised they could bring back his family. Oh, I was so naïve! And when he learned that it couldn’t be done, he changed, and he is now taking his anger out on your world.

How do I know I can trust the both of you? Nurse Betty gave Rynah a shot of antibiotics.

The question you should ask, answered Obiah, is why did you?

Nurse Betty thought for a moment. I suppose, that if you were as dangerous as the news says you are, you would have left her out on the road to die, not risk bringing her here. She checked the transfusion and disconnected the bag from Rynah. You will need to take it easy for a while, she said to Klanor. As for her, I gave her something which should bring her fever down. The only thing you can do now is wait for her to wake up, but you can’t stay here.

We’ve nowhere to go, said Obiah, nor do we have transportation.

Here, take my keys. Nurse Betty handed Obiah her car keys. Just press that button and the car that responds is mine. I’ll have to report it stolen when my shift is over, but for now, take it. And here’s some cash to buy food. She handed them the two $20 bills she kept in her pocket for meals when she worked double shifts.

You’ve helped us enough. We can’t…

Take it, Nurse Betty interrupted Obiah. If this Stein guy is as bad as you say he is, then you all need to find a way to stop him.

Rynah moaned, shifting a little before going back to sleep, and Klanor lifted her into his arms, being careful not to wake her. After Nurse Betty made certain the hallway was clear and no one was just outside the exit, Klanor left with Obiah, while cradling Rynah.

Thank you, he said.

Don’t mention it, replied Nurse Betty. She watched them hurry over the three-foot ledge and into the parking area where she kept her car. Though she had no way of knowing it, her small act would change the world.

The fire crackled as it spit out embers into the night air. Joe and the others had driven through Denver, taking Interstate 25 south to New Mexico and only stopping when they were 20 miles from the border and could camp on the side of the road without attracting too much attention. Any cars that did drive past kept going, ignoring them, which is what they wanted. Alfric had built the fire, grumbling about the lack of good kindling, and cooked four rabbits in it; Joe refused to ask about the rabbits, deciding it to be in his best interest as he did not wish to argue with Alfric’s sword.

Silence pierced the sullenness that followed them in the hours that had passed since the incident at the Wilmar Construction Site as no one had spoken. Solaris had confined herself to the back of the truck, refusing to speak or even acknowledge the others’ presence. Her usual spunky demeanor had dwindled to a subdued manner, too subdued for the others. Concerned, each tried talking to her, but her response remained the same—silent and hollow-eyed.

Joe glanced at Solaris. Though he hadn’t known her as long as the others, he knew that what had happened the previous night had changed her. Her snarkiness had disappeared, something he had come to admire and expect. He looked over at Alfric poking the fire he had built while glancing up into Solaris’ violet eyes, the eyes of a haunted memory that the Viking could not tear himself free from. Joe snapped his head down when Brie, who had also been studying Alfric, looked in his direction.

What is that? asked Tom, breaking the quiet that surrounded them and pointing at the bits of stringy rabbit meat in the fire.

Food, replied Alfric. The hunt was meager, but we will still eat well tonight.

They look a little scrawny, said Tom.

Alfric gave him a disapproving glare and Tom backed away.

On second thought, it looks good, he said. Yum.

Brie stepped over and turned the meat over to keep it from burning on one side.

What bothers you? she asked Alfric, trying to keep her voice low with the others around, but unable to ignore his constant stares at Solaris any longer.

Nothing bothers me, grumbled Alfric, still jabbing the meager fire with a stick.

Brie placed her hand on Alfric’s, its size dwarfing hers, and said, Ever since Sunlil, you have not been able to stop staring at Solaris. What is it about her that troubles you?

Sighing, Alfric glanced at Solaris, who stood away from the rest of them, with the faint edges of the shadows cast by the firelight wrestling at her feet. Her eyes, he said, his voice stopping the conversation between Solon, Tom, and Fons.

What about them? said Brie, while fiddling with the pendant Alfric had given her, and which she had worn around her neck ever since.

I’ve seen them before, replied the Viking.

The others leaned in, yearning to hear more about Alfric’s past, knowing that