Jeanne G'Fellers - No Sister of Mine by Jeanne G'Fellers (the rosie project .txt) 📕

“I took it off her night before last. Dear Mother, what have I done?” Krell sank to the floor, cuddling LaRenna’s belongings. “I told her I’d be there if she needed me. I promised. How could I be so stupid?” She shook remorsefully, clinging even tighter to the cloth, the meager remains of LaRenna.

“She’s not dead, Krell.” The words sounded so forced he began again. “She’s alive. We’ll find her. Wait and see.”

“Where do I begin?” Krell sniffed hard then held up the underskirt. “There’s so much blood. It’s everywhere. She’s hurt. I can feel it. I knew it last night. Oh, Firman, what have I done?”

“Faith, Krell. Have faith.” Firman took the clothing from his sibling’s shaking hands and drew Krell’s pale palms into his dark ones. “Remember when you lost Mother’s amulet?”

“Yeah,” she mumbled.

“Remember how Father gave it to you for your tenth birthday?”

“Yeah.”

“How long did you have to look for it before you found it?”

“Over two passes,” Krell whispered between sobs.

“You never gave up searching, did you?” Firman squeezed her hands. “Answer me. Did you?”

“No.”

“The amulet meant so much you never thought to quit,” he continued. “Do you care about LaRenna half as much as that fool piece of jewelry?”

“I was going to give that fool piece of jewelry to her when I saw her next. Life won’t be worth living without her. Oh, Firman, what have I done?”

“You’ve done nothing but love. We’ll find her. How hard can it be?”

“Firman, I—”

“Don’t Firman me, Krelleesha Tanchana Middle.” Firman’s tone reminded Krell of their father, to whom Firman bore a striking resemblance. “She’s waiting for you. You heard her cries. She needs our help. As long as there’s a chance she’s alive, we’ll search for her.”

Krell’s somber eyes focused on him. “We?”

“Think I’d let you go it alone?”

She shook her head. “I’m a blubbering idiot, Fir. You’re always around when I need you most.”

“That’s what big brothers are for, help and aggravation.” He caught Krell’s head and knuckle-scrubbed the top. “We better get to the launch. I left Tatra to carry the bags.”

“You didn’t!” Krell chuckled at the thought of the thin-framed healer juggling substantial baggage.

“Yes, I did.” Firman assisted her rise. “It’s good to see a smile on your face, even a small one. Now, let’s go.”

The firefight continued around the Center’s Assembly. Cance’s select four had successfully taken control of the facility’s perimeter and were maintaining their ground, waiting for the scan decoder to work its magic on the hatchway’s encrypted codes.

“Hurry up!” The tanned Autlach drew flat against one of the building’s decorative pillars. He wished nothing more than to be with his family. This wasn’t his idea of a glorious victory, and martyrdom now seemed pointless. “Do it now! The entire base will be on us in a minute.”

“Two markings left. Hold your position.” Longhair watched as one then the other locking number fell into place. A yellow light signaled the hatch’s release, allowing him to avoid the volley of blaster fire that rained on their position. Once inside, he took his bearings and located the master control panel. “All right, here we go. Blue means water supplies, gold sanitation tube ways, brown, green. Where’s the confounded black key locks?” They sat to the side of the main panel array, protected by a heavy glass case. He smashed the cover with a padded elbow, setting off a blaring base-wide alarm. The small hardwire box Cance had entrusted him with hooked easily to the locks and repeated the same repetitious jumble of numbers. One by one, they clicked into place.

“Atmospheric Purge System activated. Secondary authorization required for this action.” The Assembly’s computer spoke in the rhythmic feminine alto typical of Taelach-installed systems. The hardwire box clicked in response, this time a much shorter series of numbers flashing across its screen.

“No!” screamed Longhair. “The security grid, not atmospheric controls!”

“Security matrix controls are designated by yellow key locks, black is for atmospheric controls only.” The reply came as the final number unencrypted. “Atmospheric purge system on line. Deionization to begin in five minutes.”

“Raskhallak’s wrath and hell’s glory, what have I done?” Longhair pounded the control panel. “Shut it down!”

“Off moon authorization from two remote locations is required for that action. Four minutes thirty seconds remaining.” Longhair started throwing random key locks. “Environmental purge sequence automatically disables all other systems,” replied the computer. “No further action is necessary. Four minutes ten seconds remaining. Immediate evacuation of all remaining personnel is required at this time.”

***

The same countdown that sounded in the Center’s Assembly echoed across all of Langus. Firman and Krell skidded to a stop, mortified when they heard the announcement.

“No!”

“Get us out of here, Krell!”

“LaRenna!”

“Cance wouldn’t stay on a moon on its way to a purge,” shouted Firman, “and neither should we!” He jerked her arm until she resumed running. They reached the Taelach-designated platforms a few seconds later, running straight into Tatra.

“Open this thing!” She tugged at the doors of planetary launch.

Krell entered her access code, released the door latch, and followed the others inside. Firman secured the hatch while Krell began the preflight functions necessary to disengage the landing locks.

“Let’s go!” Tatra’s primped face twisted with terror.

“Sit down and hold on! It’s fixing to get bumpy!” warned Krell and the engines roared to life. She throttled the craft upward, bounding it into flight with a violent rock that sent Tatra careening to the floor. Firman pulled her up, planted her in the seat next to his, and secured her safety harness.

“When Krell says hold on, she means it.” Tatra nodded and held fast to her seat, the first time Firman had ever seen her without a showy comeback.

They entered the lower levels of the Langus atmosphere as the countdown ended. Violent sulfurous thunderheads could be seen forming to the south, blue-green streaks of lightning cracking through them. Tatra turned to watch in gruesome fascination, her mouth opening and closing in awe. Firman jeered at her indiscretion and jerked her back