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

and I’ll slap it out of her.” This unfamiliar side of Chandrey disturbed Cance, rattling her intentions until she briefly yielded. “I must be getting sentimental. All right, Chandresslandra, you want her, you got her.” Cance adjusted the launch’s recorder lens to view the rear seating. Talmshone, his talons at Trazar’s throat to ensure silence, leaned against the far bulkhead, clear of the recorder’s range. Just because they knew of his presence did not mean he wanted to make an appearance. Cance kissed LaRenna then moved back, one hand on LaRenna’s head to remind all watching just who maintained dominance. “Say hello to the folks at home, lover. Tell them what a wonderful time we’re having.”

LaRenna pulled her head to her chest so her hair concealed the marks on her face. She couldn’t bear the thought of anyone she loved seeing her in this condition.

“LaRenna, look up.” Krell’s voice was a ray of light in the dark depths of her fragile soul. She glanced up briefly, then looked away, hopelessly embarrassed. “LaRenna?” Krell’s voice sent another wave flowing into LaRenna’s heart. She raised her head a little more, trying to focus on the launch’s small viewer.

“Krell?”

“Yes, LaRenna, it’s me. Are you okay?”

“I’m tired.” Her response was truly that.

“I know you are. Be brave. You’ll be home soon.”

“Home?” The concept sounded foreign. LaRenna pulled her head up fully, straining to see the image that accompanied the caring voice. She had to see Krell.

“Precious Renna.” Krell’s pain had been more than illusion. “Be strong. We’ll get you home soon.”

Cance jerked the lens forward. “You’ve seen her, now do we have a deal or—” The screen died into a spotty feed of static.

“Get them back!” screamed Belsas.

Ockson pecked feverishly at the terminal. “It’s not on our end. They must be having power difficulties.”

As quickly as it went blank, the screen burst back to life. The transmission was hazy, but Cance’s frenzy was crystal clear. “Belsas Exzal, you fucker! You tracked us by our sig . . . we’re going down! You’ll never see her . . . if she survives this, I swear I’ll . . . before you can reach her!” The reception dimmed and crackled as the launch’s power supply diverted to emergency systems.

“What’s happening?” Krell couldn’t breathe. LaRenna was everywhere in her mind.

KKKRRREELLL!

Ockson pounded away at her board, desperate to gather as much information as possible before the launch dropped from orbit. “The Iralians left a tracer charge. It homed in on the launch’s transmission signal. They had no intention of retrieving their spy.”

Krell cried out as the pleading cry grew louder, shrieking against the mental blast echoing in her skull. KRRREEELLLLL!

“LARENNA! NO!” she cried.

“My baby!” Chandrey fell forward across the table, arms outstretched to catch her falling child. “LaRenna!”

Cance’s obscene ranting was reduced to a single string of erratic syllables that were barely decipherable among the frantic cries on the Predator. “You— Crash— Help— Die—” Then, it stopped, Krell’s mental tirade halting abruptly as well.

“LaRenna, no darlin’, no.”

“Krell, I’m sorry.” Firman grabbed her arm to stop her fall.

She pushed him away. “No. This is all wrong. I just found her again. I just told her. No!”

“Krell—” She knocked his compassionate hand away.

“No!”

“Krell?”

“She’s not dead.” She had managed to regain control. “I feel her. I hear her heartbeat.”

“Oh, Krelleesha,” he sighed. The denial was familiar. Their father had experienced much the same reaction when their mother passed away. Krell didn’t remember, but he did. The death hadn’t sunk into him for several cycles, leaving the family’s well-being solely in a young Firman’s lap until their father had regained his faculties.

There were no tears in Belsas’s battle-hardened eyes. “Whellen, you were LaRenna’s friend. Please contact my compound on Saria Three and notify them of our loss.”

“Yes, Grandmaster.” Malley, preferring to grieve in silence, slowly withdrew from the room.

Belsas’s hands were icy on Chandrey’s slumped shoulders. “Ockson, have your crew prepare a recovery detail. I’ll assist. We must bring my daughter home to rest.”

“It’s the least I could do, Belsas.” Ockson silently followed Malley out the lift doors.

Last, Belsas addressed Krell in a no less officious tone. “You’re needed on the recovery detail as well. LaRenna was your intended. You must travel to Saria Three with the body so you can witness the death rites.”

“I’ll go to the surface,” she replied. “But it won’t be to recover a corpse.” Krell peered at Saria Four. It wasn’t such a big place, most of the landmass on the Reisfall continent, the remainder scattered on dozens of small islands. LaRenna was on the continent, Krell was certain, unconscious but breathing, dreaming of nothing but Krell’s impending rescue. The dream link would help, be a beacon for Krell to follow. And Krell had to follow, for where LaRenna was so was Krell, bound by desire and heart, dependence of mind and body. She shoved off Firman’s helping hands, and rose to stand before Belsas, her face hardened with resolve. “No, there will be no funeral fires, no memorial, no ashes scattered. LaRenna is alive and I have every intention of finding her.”

Chapter Twenty-Eight

The storms of life are oftentimes longer and rougher than any nature can create.

—Taelach wisdom

Thunder rumbled at a distance, lightning flaring the clouds into brilliance. A drizzle began to fall, pooling then trickling water into the launch’s twisted remains, where a pencil-thin stream dripped onto Trazar’s face and into his nose, waking him with a chilled, choking start. Disoriented, head pounding from the hard crack it had received, he wondered why the safety straps felt so tight. He shifted position and his splintered left armrest fell past his head to clang on the ceiling. The ceiling? Trazar became aware of his location. The launch had toppled bottom up in the crash, leaving its passengers dangling upside down.

He rested his feet on the launch’s metal framework then disengaged his harness. Rolling out of the seat, he crouched for a minute in his topsy-turvy setting. When his head cleared, he checked the