Latik Kerjna, Drema IV

Day 1

Sarjenka wadded up the piece of drafting paper and threw it at the overstuffed waste bin, wanting nothing more at that moment than to do the same with the entire concept when the chime at her sleep chamber’s entrafield sounded.

“Mealtime.”

Sarjenka absently tugged at a strand of shoulder-length, reddish-gold hair. There were times when she would have sworn that her father had programmed the entrafield’s acoustic dampener specifically to allow her mother’s shrill voice to penetrate.

Pulling herself out of the straight-back chair, she slowly walked the few steps across the small, sparsely decorated bedroom, placed one long-fingered red palm against the entrafield, and triggered it. No sooner did it wink open than the smell of fresh-baked keena bread hit her nose, and Sarjenka’s stomach reminded her of how long it had been since she’d last eaten.

Her mother looked down on her with a concerned expression in her golden eyes. “How is your project for med-design class coming?” she asked, her voice an attempt at consolation that didn’t quite succeed.

Sparing a glance at the overflowing waste bin, she replied, “I don’t know. I see these devices, and I know they aren’t real, but I have no idea what it would take to make them. None of the master healers can help.”

Her mother gently laughed, but this time Sarjenka noticed a very slight edge of sadness about it. “There are times when you are so much like your father. Remember, young one. You are their apprentice, not their teacher. Come. Perhaps your father can help you figure out the solution when he returns from his shift.”

Almost on cue, she heard the mewling of her pet reeka work its way up the stairs. “Jenkara! You will eat when we do! Do not bother him!” It was the one behavior of the reeka’s that had always driven her mother to distraction, and nothing they could do would train the creature to stop. The animal had a horrible habit of playfully attacking Sarjenka’s father at the entrafield, when his clothes were still caked with dilithium dust and he still had the greenish-red tinge to his face that all of the miners she had ever known in her short life seemed to share. Fortunately for all of them, Jenkara was far too small to do anything beyond being playful. The long, thin, well-scaled tail of a full-grown reeka could have easily broken bones in one swat. Jenkara, thanks to an injury when he was very young, would never grow to full size.

No sooner did the mewling stop than the field winked open and a booming voice sounded. “Rakan? Rakan? Where are you?”

Sarjenka and her mother shared a look. That wasn’t her father. It sounded more like one of his friends from the mine.

Her mother hurried down the stairs. “Sinterka? What is it?”

Sarjenka followed her mother down the stairs, stopping and sitting two steps from the bottom. Sinterka was coated in the greenish dust from the mines, his normally orange coveralls a color Sarjenka had tried several times over the last five years to figure out a way to describe, but failed with each attempt. He smelled as the miners always did—of perspiration, stale vituwater, and dilithium dust.

Of course, everything had smelled of dilithium dust in the time since the Exiles had arrived. Not even the Dreman’s alliance with the people who called themselves the Federation could change that.

However, Sarjenka had only ever heard that tone of voice from Sinterka once, when her father had been trapped after a newly excavated section of the primary mine had collapsed. A flutter in the back of her mind suggested that whatever disturbed him now was related. “What happened?”

Sinterka held a slender, comforting hand over her mother’s shoulder. “El found a xurta in the mine today. It was buried inside one of the walls of the first level.”

That got Sarjenka’s interest. “Father? Is he safe?”

Sinterka’s eyes found hers, and she saw a fear in them she’d never seen before. “That’s the problem, young one. I don’t know.”

Ignoring the rumbling that was still emanating from her stomach, Sarjenka stood and took the final two steps of the staircase in one stride. Reaching for her overcoat, she said, “Then I should inform the master healers. If there is a chance that our assistance will be required—”

“No,” Sinterka said. His arms fell to his side, and a man Sarjenka had always considered larger than life, despite his slender build, suddenly seemed as small as Jenkara. “Your father was still working on digging the bomb out when he ordered us to leave. The mine was shut down until the area could be secured, and they could determine if there are any more bombs. I only was able to get out to tell you now.”

Before he could say another word, something exploded in the distance.

Sinterka’s eyes made the journey from surprise to shock to tears in a matter of seconds.

Almost as fast as Rakan’s and—Sarjenka was sure—her own.

Wordlessly grabbing her pack, Sarjenka ran out the front entrafield and toward the mine.