Page 11 of Dark Survivor (The Qaldreth Warriors #2)

Chapter Six

Three Solar Cycles Later

The Senate

Planet of Ivoy

Nenn peered off the platform surrounding the med-tech spire.

With his chores and studies attended to, he had time for what he loved to do.

Far below the Amikar Cliffs were endless waterfalls and rivers, all enshrouded in gray-lilac mists.

Only on rare days, when the rain didn’t threaten to fall, was the beauty revealed.

No matter how many times he tried, a pressing task always ended his descent too soon.

He had yet to reach the bottom. A sensation in his bones said that was about to change.

He sat with his feet off the side. Chuckling at what the next hour held for him, he flipped around and caught the lip with his fingers, dangling with his arms bearing his full weight.

Down he shimmied, from toe-hold to finger-hold.

He zigzagged, crimping ridges, scars, grooves, and mini platforms as a way to descend.

The wind whipped at his hair and cooled the sweat on his brow and bare torso.

The lilac sunlight offered warmth between the breezes.

At ease, his symbiotes thrummed, but his armor remained hidden.

As a maed, though his symbiotes had been manipulated to form Ivoyan armor across his skin, he hadn’t gotten to use it for protection.

In moments of extreme emotion, they appeared without thought.

While he inched down the cliff, he practiced masking and unmasking, training his symbiotes to rise to the surface and harden.

The Qaldreth way was to dismiss the armor when in the company of other warriors. His inability to do that was a sign he hid something from his ‘brothers.’ Suspicion could lead to him returning home with shame upon his shoulders.

A zalziki swooped and flapped around him, squawking in dismay. Its elongated snout, the beady eyes, and meters-wide wingspan made it intimidating when it dove for him. A glance to the left confirmed he was too near its nest.

He chuckled. “My apologies, my flying friend. Let me move away…”

Under the bird’s vigilance, he crossed to the right in a diagonal decline.

A cooling mist tickled his bare feet. The familiar tumble of waterfalls thundered in his ears.

He’d yet to reach the bottom. Moisture glistened on the moss-covered rock, making his holds slippery.

Today, he persevered, choosing his path with care.

Sure, a river may be beneath him should he fall, but who knew what beasts lurked in its depths? Nor did he know how to swim.

He hoped an island or beach offered safety and a chance to see what the mists obscured.

“Nenn,” Caah snapped via the nodule embedded in Nenn’s neck.

He groaned. No, this is not happening. He shoved his hand into a crevice, formed a fist, and hung there. “What, Caah?”

“Where in hell are you?” His voice crackled, implying the distance was too great for clear communication.

Nenn huffed. “Where do you think?”

“I knew it,” Caah cried out. “Give me…a minute.”

A muted whir reached Nenn’s ears moments before bright lights blinded him. He shielded his eyes and peered over his shoulder at the velorx hovering too close for comfort.

“There had better be a valid reason for your intrusion,” he said, glared at Caah, then glanced down in search of his next hold.

“You’ve been tasked to attend to an arrak with a faulty nodule.”

“Not another maed available?” Nenn locked his arms in place to rest his temple on the warm rock.

“Would I be here if there were?” Caah had the right of it. It had to be serious to send an arrak to track down a maed.

With a grunt, Nenn gestured for him to fly closer. When the male brought the velorx’s ass in line with Nenn, he pushed off the cliff wall and landed across the seat. The hover dipped under their combined weight, then leveled, its engine whining.

“A warning would be appreciated,” Caah said, his white hair ruffling.

“Then why did you draw near?” Nenn asked when he’d pulled himself up until he could sit behind Caah. “Which arrak?

“Meorri aac Drafe,” Caah said, shooting the velorx upward, skimming past holds Nenn knew too well. “He is at the Senate.”

“I understand the urgency,” Nenn said. “Assisting such a warrior cannot be delayed.”

Caah hovered the velorx where Nenn had dangled his feet off the edge a while ago.

He leaped off to land on the platform. “Thank you, Caah. I will take it from here.”

He strode into the med-tech spire, past the emergency wards to the barracks beyond. Inside his three-by-five room, he yanked on boots and red pants then summoned his armor. It shimmered across his obsidian skin in a pattern like a vibuy’s.

He stopped at the first ward to collect a med-dev and a temporary nodule, just in case. With both pocketed, he tapped his heels to activate the power boots then launched himself off the ledge. For a male from Erasril, flying was reserved for the Zuphayr tribe.

“How much longer, Nenn?” Meorri aac Drafe demanded.

“Why? You have a female awaiting your return?” Nenn chuckled, veering to the right for the ornate platform high above Ivoy’s natural wonders below.

Drafe snorted. “A female on Ivoy? Sure.”

“Ivoyans are androgynous, so finding a compatible female is possible.” Nenn deactivated his power boots as he landed on the platform, his focus on the pacing Qaldreth guardian.

Drafe Arrak was the most promising Qaldreth warrior or so Nenn had heard. Having dealt with the male before, he could only agree. He comported himself as Nenn imagined Panior would.

The warrior’s grunt reverberated through Nenn’s mind. The nodule buried in his neck had a limited range. This close, he caught the frustration and impatience in Drafe’s voice.

He met Nenn’s gaze and strode toward him. “I am attempting to banter with you. Try it before you reject the skill.”

Ahh. Now he understood. Despite knowing much about Drafe, they hadn’t spent time together to build a casual rapport. “Would this be from your xenology studies I have heard rumors of?”

Drafe didn’t answer, just angled his head to grant Nenn easier access to his ear.

His bald head was a Qaldreth feature with his black hair streaking from his temple to disappear into his gray, armored bodysuit.

All males shaved their heads but allowed a strip to grow from the brow to the base of his spine.

His yellow eyes also confirmed his home as being the deserts of Qaldreth—the Meorri part of his name.

Nenn raised his arm to scan Drafe’s ear. “Is your ot inside?” he asked, soft beeps and flashes marking his progress. The med-dev was far superior to russmar. He planned to take it with him when he returned to Erasril.

The med-dev pinged, green pulsing for a second. Not a good sign.

Drafe stiffened. “Diagnosis?”

“Replacement,” Nenn said, lowering his arm.

“Here?” Drafe’s wide eyes revealed his hope.

Nenn frowned. The new nodule would need the old one surgically removed. “No, you will have to come with me.”

“Curse it, Nenn. I cannot leave, not with my ot unguarded,” Drafe snapped.

Nenn swallowed the urge to mutter how childish Drafe reacted for an arrak—his rank of protector or guardian. Instead, he clipped a temp-device over the old nodule. “See me when you can,” he said. “I will have the implant waiting at med-tech.”

“My thanks.” Drafe strode off, his focus on the doors to the Senate.

Nenn shrugged, having learned not to take arrak behavior to heart.

They bore much pressure guarding the ots—the highest-ranking Ivoyans.

Ots were the judges or generals, the revered councilmen, those positions determined at birth and based on IQ.

Then came the zi, who traveled to expand Ivoy’s knowledge of the universe.

A lo taught, sharing the information held in the archives.

Last were the uz, the servant class. Any baby with a lower intelligence than that wasn’t allowed to survive.

He curled his lip in disgust. Not the Qaldreth way but changing centuries of tradition and culture would be impossible for a maed. He kept his head down and healed where he could.

“Med-tech, confirm temp-device installed on Meorri aac Drafe Arrak. Reminder to be sent to the male should he not schedule a full replacement.”

“Acknowledged, Giniiri aac Nenn Maed.”

Nenn huffed. Task done.

A boom jerked him to a halt. He hovered, gawking at the burning Senate platform tumbling to the city below. He charged forward, not sure what he could do. When he neared, he spotted Drafe diving over the side, chasing a falling Ivoyan—his blue uniform that of a servant.

A glance at the Senate confirmed it was beyond salvation; debris dripped down like globules of lava.

Already, salvage ships caught chunks of metal and stone before it hit the forests and rivers below.

Nenn’s mind reeled. How had this happened?

Who would dare? He didn’t know of any enemies.

Nor could he fathom how’d they’d breach the shield around the planet of Ivoy.

Many Qaldreths blasted in, answering Drafe’s calls for aid.

They surrounded him when he landed on a sec-ship, the uz in hand. Questions bombarded Nenn through the nodules, louder when he, too, approached the crowd. Another med-tech or maed attended to Drafe, so Nenn sought the uz vomiting over the holographic guardrail.

“Do you require healing?” he asked the Ivoyan.

He straightened, his black eyes wide, but the tint of orange on his cheeks had faded to a peach. “I am well, Maed,” he said. “If not a little shaken.” He glanced at the gathered Qaldreth. “Though why the protector saved me, I cannot say.”

Nenn activated his wrist and scanned the uz anyway. Drafe must have rescued him for a reason. And Nenn had no doubts the Q.C.C. would want to question them both.