The Alliance Read online

  The Alliance

  By

  David Andrews

  Eternal Press

  A division of Damnation Books, LLC.

  P.O. Box 3931

  Santa Rosa, CA 95402-9998

  www.eternalpress.biz

  The Alliance

  by David Andrews

  Digital ISBN: 978-1-61572-441-3

  Print ISBN: 978-1-61572-442-0

  Cover art by: Dawné Dominique

  Edited by: Ellen Tevault

  Copyedited by: Tim Marquitz

  Copyright 2011 David Andrews

  Printed in the United States of America

  Worldwide Electronic & Digital Rights

  1st North American, Australian and UK Print Rights

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned or distributed in any form, including digital and electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the prior written consent of the Publisher, except for brief quotes for use in reviews.

  This book is a work of fiction. Characters, names, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  To Diane Colman,

  who made it possible.

  Prologue

  Two hundred years made little difference to the beach camp. Dael accepted Torred building a shelter over the table and preserving its timbers with oil. Peter extended their sleeping nook to provide shelter for the children and Karrel built a second one to share with Gabrielle and their boy, Jack. A niche dug into the landward side of the sand hill and stabilized with sandstone blocks provided the final resting place for their friends. Torred, Samara, and Jesse slept there eternally, their graves tended by Dael.

  She sat with them now, on the seat he had built for her, and he would join her as soon as their meal was cooked. Two centuries answered none of his questions about this reality. He still wasn’t sure that it existed outside his mind, the product of desperation, and not even holding Dael could banish that fear.

  He woke in this world to find it controlled by a race of immortal telepaths, minds existing within human hosts, who banished war and imposed sustainability for so many thousands of years that history no longer existed, because nothing ever changed. Intrigued, he studied it from a vantage point he’d named Limbo, using the power it gave him to read minds without detection and transport himself mentally from location to location, where he could assume physical form at will.

  A much decorated veteran of WWI, WWII and Korea with the American Army, with service in the French Foreign Legion between the wars, the loss of human freedom of choice in this world appalled him too much not to attempt change. Direct action was impossible against the telepaths, for they communicated in a group mind that pooled all information, so he chose guile, implementing a plan to introduce generational change to a race that had no means, or need, to reproduce.

  The first stage of his plan produced a discovery that still haunted him. A thought could change this world, bringing in its train every ramification of the original thought. He’d merely wondered how telepathic immortals in an unchanging world avoided boredom and the telepaths started going mad and dying, not in great numbers, but enough to teach him caution in his thoughts.

  Still, the change gave him the opportunity to suborn the individual who became Dael, coaxing her into creating a physical body that could bear his son, the saviour of both races, and falling deeply in love with her in the process.

  Born with all the powers of both parents, Karrel tricked Belen into dying in Peter’s place on Earth, replacing a worn out body with one created by Dael from a single tear.

  Wary of two individuals who could change things merely by thinking about them in a different way, he focused Karrel’s attention on the past, setting him a puzzle from the group mind’s memories that sent him back thirty-five thousand years to meet the future of Earth’s people.

  Having trashed their planet, they scattered to the stars, huge colony ships following smaller scouts and settling habitable planets as they found them. Locked into sub-light speed, their travels took many generations. Earth was only a distant memory when they encountered Dael’s race, a scout ship commanded by Gabrielle making planetfall on their home world.

  Karrel and Peter managed the confrontation, avoiding conflict and transferring Dael’s race to their present home, a planet so far beyond the galactic hub that it would remain undisturbed for many millennia. In the process, they had freed humanity from the tyranny of distance by creating a means of instant travel between the stars and Karrel fell in love with Gabrielle.

  This left the scattered remnants of Earth’s people prey to many dangers, the worst of which was the successor of the original multi-national that trashed Earth to make the Diaspora possible. Still known as the Federation, they were the new enemy, overwhelming in numbers, but with weak points the few as he had at his disposal could exploit. He encouraged the others to call themselves the Alliance to boost their apparent numbers.

  “Stop worrying, my love.” Dael was sharing his thoughts and her mind encompassed him. “You will do what’s right and find a way. You always do.” She translocated from the graves to his side and her arms enfolded him. “Is our meal ready?” Physical speech was now possible.

  “Another twenty minutes.”

  “The oven can look after itself,” she said, drawing him to his feet. “I have just the diversion for you.” She led him to their bed beneath the stars.

  Dael stopped bearing children after Anneke and Jean-Paul, replacing motherhood with caring for the trickle of her own race who chose to follow her path and create physical bodies to contain their minds, but had never lost the wonder of sex with her husband.

  Chapter One

  Anneke

  Anneke watched as the Lord High Sheriff’s men-at-arms arranged the dozen Federation agents on an improvised scaffold. Eleven already had nooses around their necks and were standing quietly. Dusk was falling and the flaring pine torches gave the scene a surreal light. Peter had forbidden direct intervention, but she couldn’t stand idle while these fools died. She liked this world, had made friends here. Yet, to involve them would trigger a bloodbath. She had to depend on the Federation responding in time, even if it meant doing something to buy them time.

  The redhead at the far end understood. She was resisting furiously, four men-at-arms inadequate to the task of restraining her. One was down already, both hands clutching a part of his anatomy he wouldn’t have willing offered as the target for a full-blooded kick. Another bled profusely from a torn ear, most of the earlobe bitten off.

  The sergeant swore foully, damning the girl and the men-at-arms equally as he strode down the line and rapped the girl behind the ear with the handle of his dagger, dropping her in an unconscious heap at the men’s feet. “Lay her aside. We’ll hang her later.”

  Anneke used the distraction to get closer. The Federation rescue party was close. She needed to be on the opposite side of the group when they arrived, ready to intervene.

  “Are you ready?” The sergeant remained by the unconscious girl, looking back along the line, his sword raised to give the signal.

  “Wait. I want to watch them dance.” Anneke’s imitation of the tyrant’s voice wouldn’t have passed muster under normal circumstances, but, coming from behind, it was enough to turn everyone to the darkness of the forest when she hid.

  They were looking the wrong way to see four dark objects lob through the air to fall at the men-at arms’ feet. Recognizing them as stun grenades, Anneke translocated two hundred feet before they exploded, shielding her eyes and turning away.
The chain mail jerkins would protect the tyrant’s men from harm, but they’d be stunned. Apart from the sergeant, none of them had ever faced explosives. She could leave the matter in Federation hands now.

  The distance muted the crack of the stun grenades, but a flash grenade amongst them lighted the evening sky revealing the approach of at least fifty more men-at-arms. Fortunately, they skidded to a stop at the explosions. The Federation leader had time to release his people on the scaffold and then throw more grenades to cover his retreat. They left before Anneke realized the redhead wasn’t among them.

  “Damn,” she swore, translocating to the girl in time to drag her into the safety of Limbo.

  “Damn,” she swore again as the girl stirred. They must be back in real space before she woke.

  The river was closest and its banks were steep. She plunged them both into the water where overhanging bushes would hide them. Peter would never understand her revealing the existence of Limbo to a Federation agent.

  The cold water completed the girl’s revival and she bit Anneke’s hand when she tried to stifle her outcry. “Quiet, damn you, they’ll hear.”

  “Sorry.” The girl understood. “Get these ropes off,” she whispered, turning to give Anneke access to her bound wrists. “Who are you?”

  “A friend.”

  “The others?”

  “Safe.” Anneke shushed her with a finger to her lips. She could sense the approach of the men-at-arms. “Squeeze under that bank and cover your face with mud. If they use lights, close your eyes. Whatever you do, don’t look at them.” Anneke disciplined herself not to smile at the girl’s reaction to being instructed in basic field craft by the inhabitant of a planet regressed to medieval feudalism. She had a fiery temper, this one.

  The men were good at their job, worst luck, probing every bush with spears or pikes, leaning far over the bank with raised torches to study the water. The girl should be safe, the undercut was deep here in the bend of the river, the current tugging at them, but there wasn’t room for two of them.

  Anneke leaned close and whispered in the girl’s ear. “Stay here. You’ll be safe. I’ll come back for you when they move on.”

  A nod answered her and Anneke let the current carry her away, diving deep and slipping into the safety of Limbo as soon as she was out of the girl’s sight.

  “A good move.” Peter was waiting and she braced herself for a lecture. “Be careful. The Federation has tried to be smart. There’ll be bloodshed. Keep yourself out of its way.” He gave her shoulder a squeeze and left.

  Anneke shook her head in amazement. Her father would never stop surprising her. She moved back to the portal into real space and watched over the redhead, scanning her thoughts to pass the time.

  * * * *

  Rachael felt cold. Partly it was the river, but mostly it was her reaction to how close she’d come to dying on the scaffold. She fought more from the horror of what was happening than from the knowledge she must buy whatever time she could for the Federation to react and save them. The local girl said the others were safe, but Rachael remembered nothing. She had a hard lump behind her left ear with the skin broken and her head ached abominably so someone had knocked her unconscious. She had men around her fully occupied; she smiled at the memory, so it was probably the sergeant. There’d have been confusion during the rescue and they’d left her as dead. Her rescuer, the local girl, must have dragged her away.

  She nodded unconsciously. The girl would know the river and slip away safely. She was probably on her way home now. The men-at-arms would know her too. They were all local and seemed reasonable until the ugly, little man in charge took offense and ordered the Federation party hanged at the crossroads bridge as an example. The site had been used before, the materials for the scaffold were in a shed beside the bridge. She had a vision of her body and those of the others hanging limply in death and shuddered.

  “Over here.” She recognized the sergeant’s voice and squeezed herself further under the bank, dragging the pendent roots across her face for concealment. The flare of a torch lit the water. She closed her eyes and waited. Even when clods, broken from the bank above, splashed close, she kept her eyes closed. The girl was right; eyes caught the light and destroyed concealment.

  “We’re wasting time,” the sergeant said. “We need to catch those bastards and ram their tricks down their throats before we hang the lot of them. The red-headed vixen will be with them. She couldn’t have escaped by herself.” He paused, as if looking around for a final time. “Come on. Trumpeter, sound the Assembly and we’ll get on with the real job.”

  The notes of a bugle followed and the noise of the men retreated, but Rachael didn’t trust the sergeant. His speech had been a little too pat. She’d stay right where she hid.

  An hour slipped by, then another and Rachael was slipping into a half doze of hypothermia when the touch of a hand startled her awake.

  “Time to go,” her rescuer, the local girl, said.

  Too stiff and cold to move easily, Rachael had to be assisted into the hide coracle and she lay helpless beneath its thwart as the girl covered her with dripping fish traps, thankful for the rough blanket they wrapped around her body first.

  “Don’t move. They’re guarding the bridge and we have to pass under it.” Rachael felt the boat surge as it entered the main current.

  A shout from outside the boat froze Rachael into immobility and she heard a seemingly endless conversation in the local dialect between the distant speaker and the man in the boat. It ended in laughter all round, her rescuer, the local girl, joining in, so Rachael relaxed a little as the boat bumped under the bridge and moved out of the torchlight.

  “Another ten minutes and we’ll get you into some dry clothes,” the girl said. “Hang in there.”

  Rachael mumbled a reply and slipped back into a half doze. Everything felt distant and unimportant now. She no longer felt cold and just wanted to lie there.

  “What’s your name?” The girl’s voice sounded urgent. “Wake up and tell me.” Rachael felt her body prodded by something. “What’s your name?” The girl repeated the question and increased the prodding.

  “Rachael. It’s Rachael. Leave me alone.”

  “Is your hair color natural? We may need to dye it?”

  “S’natural.” Rachael’s voice seemed oddly slurred. “Do you want me to prove it?” She giggled at the thought.

  The girl chuckled, as if she understood Rachael’s thought. “I’ll see soon enough.” The boat rocked as the girl stood up to look around. “We can’t wait any longer.” She was speaking to their companion, probably the boat owner. “Take us in over there. There’s shelter enough.” Her voice turned urgent. “Rachael. How many brothers do you have?”

  Rachael had begun to slip away again and she resented the question. “None of your business. They’re all married.”

  “Good for them. How many sisters?”

  “Too bloody many.” That seemed funny too and Rachael tried to laugh, but found it beyond her, mumbling to herself instead as she tried to recall their names.

  The boat grounded, tilting enough to displace the fish traps above her and Rachael’s mumble became a grumble. “Watch it. I’m under here.”

  “Not for long.” The girl was tossing the traps onto the bank in her haste to get at Rachael. “Help me get her ashore. We need to get her into dry clothes and warm before she slips away completely.”

  “There’s a hut in the center, used by poachers. You’ll be safe there,” the man rumbled. “I’ll carry her. You tie the painter to that branch and bring the bundle of clothes.”

  Rachael felt herself lifted and lay cradled like a child in strong arms. She sighed and closed her eyes.

  “No you don’t.” The man shook her awake. “Stay with us.”

  He kept it up as he carried her down a narrow forest path and into a tiny clearing at the entrance to a hut cut deep into the ground, with only the earthen sod roof showing, perfect camouflage in its surro
undings.

  “There’s dry wood over there. Make the fire small and the big trees will hide the smoke.” He was talking to the girl. Perhaps she wasn’t local.

  “Put her on the bed. You’d better get back to your fishing. Thank you.”

  “You saved our child. I could do no less.” The man laid Rachael on a bed of dried reeds. “Good luck,” he said, and left.

  The girl stripped Rachael of her wet clothes, rubbing her dry with coarse sacking.

  “Your red hair is natural,” she remarked conversationally as she wrapped her in a rug of soft fur and laid her on the bed once more. “Let’s have a look at you, and then I’ll light the fire and we can start warming you from the inside as well.”

  “What’s your name? I haven’t thanked you properly.” Rachael struggled to appear gracious. It felt important.

  “I’m Anneke and you’d better save your thanks until I succeed.”

  The girl, Anneke, knelt by the bed and closed her eyes, as if in prayer, and Rachael fell prey to the oddest sensation that someone was probing and testing every fiber of her body. It wasn’t unpleasant, just strange.

  “M-m-m.” Anneke rose from her knees and stood, looking down at Rachael. “Something warm inside and then some body heat should do the trick.” She nodded in self confirmation. “I needn’t bother Dael.”

  She turned away and went to the fireplace, building a small fire of twigs and adding dried wood, one piece at a time, to limit the smoke. A small pot hung from a stand. She filled it with water and swung it over the fire. “While that boils, we’ll see what a little body heat can do.”

  Anneke shed her clothes and slid into the rug beside Rachael, cuddling her face to face, legs entwined, arms around her and Rachael felt the warmth flowing into her body like a healing tide. Her arms wrapped around the girl and held her close, welcoming her.

  “Thank you,” she murmured. “Thank you.” Her eyelids drooped…and this time Anneke let her sleep.