Finding Darkness

Chapter 59 Shelter

"And it's not fair for either of us, I know. But hopefully neither of us will have to wait for much longer."

"What do you mean?" Tamar asked as Malachi snuggled her closer to his chest.

"When we get back to the manned part of the ship, I am going to find our Chaplin. We are going to get married, I mean, if you want to?"

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but yes, I want to be yours for the rest of my life."

"What do you mean? I can't believe I'm saying this?" Malachi asked, puzzled.

"Mal, I've been raised in a world where women do not get married to anyone. No one gets married these days. The patriarchy was done away with over a hundred years ago, right after the great continental war. The ever notion of a woman submitting herself to the leadership of a man is against everything I've been raised to believe," nuzzling her face into the crock made by his neck and shoulder, she sighed." But not anymore."

At that instant, Malachi felt ten feet tall and bulletproof. This woman wanted to be his. His to protect, his to provide for. She wanted to be his in every way just as he was willing and eager to give his life to her and if need be, for her.

They stayed that way for the rest of the evening until the artificial sun began to diminish the illumination.

"Where did you leave your kill?" Malachi asked.

"Why?" Tamar asked into his chest, her words muffled by his chest hair.

"Because I'm starving. Without my suit on, I get hungry just like everyone else."

"It's about a hundred yards that way." Her arm fluttered out in a kind shorta northern direction.

"Now that's comprehensive." He waited for a few minutes for Tamar to move before realizing she had no such intention.

"You're going to have to move now." He told her sweetly.

"Now I'm not," she replied, her voice a whisper.

"I'm getting hungry, so move or I'm moving with you on my chest."

"Do what you have to, but I like it here."

Knowing what that meant, Malachi's suit surrounded him in a flash of black and a quick snap hiss, just before Tamar sank every claw into him and latched on for the ride.

"You could have skewered me." He barked in surprise and irritation.

"Oh, you big baby, you know I can't get through your suit." Tamar answered, her words slurred in her half-asleep fog.

"I didn't have my suit up. Do you know that?" He asked as he stood and walked towards the moose she'd killed earlier.

"You didn't? Oops my bad. I didn't hurt you, did I?"

"No, but next time, a little warning would be nice."

Tamar just laughed and snuggled in closer.

A half hour later, Malachi was just finishing a meal of moose back strap steak when he realized that the temp was dropping pretty fast, and the only light was coming from the dying fire.

"We need shelter. Wait here." He told a drowsy Tamar.

"Minutes later, Malachi stepped lightly into the small circle of light gave off by the fire.

"Come on, I've got us a place to sleep."

Staggering to her feet, Tamar almost toppled over, caught herself, then followed him into that black. It didn't take them long to find their sleeping accommodations. Malachi had made a lean to at the base of a large white pine. A dry log about four inches in diameter and twelve feet long he had wedged into the crotch of the lowest branch, then took smaller green branches from the surrounding pines and created the roof of the crude structure. Great arm full of dead leaves and small twigs from the forest floor had then been thrown atop the branches to give some protection from wind and rain. With the roof complete, he had, with great care, selected only the greenest and softest hemlock bows and covered the ground within the small hut to a depth of about six inches deep.

"We'll spend the night in here." He crawled in, his broad shoulders just squeezing through the opening in front.

With a yawn, Tamar followed. Once inside, she wondered at how warm it was, as if the cold was being kept at bay by the earthy scent, and the fragrance of hemlock. Within minutes, she was fast asleep, her tiny frame wrapped tightly around her man.

Captain Vapade walked back onto his bridge behind prince Thargoan. For the sake of his mission and its completion, he had swallowed his pride and asked the prince to address the fleet. The one thing he had emphasized most to the prince was that it would be his voice only. Vapade had taken the young braggart out of the decision-making process completely.

Much to his consternation, Vapade also knew that the rank and file within the fleet thought the price was a hero of the empire. Of course, they did. His father had made it so before this mission began. The pompous hatchling couldn't command a planetary frigate without a competent first officer to make all the hard decisions. To the officers and men, though, he was their fearless leader, next in line for the throne. Well, he'd use that adoration to get this mission finished. Once they returned to the home world, a very different side of their price would be discovered. Thargoans father could be called many things: warlord, conquer, leader, destroyer, but stupid, never. He would at last see just how incompetent his first hatched son was.

Vapade continued to walk a respectful distance behind the prince, making sure to show the proper deference. He had gone over the prince's speech dozens of times until the little whelp could say it forwards and backwards. His defiance had broken with only the minimal amount of pain applied. It was as Vapade had guessed from the first time they'd been introduced. Thargoan had never seen battle, not a real battle. His pain tolerance was pathetic. He had just started when the young Rougarian had wilted, begging for the pain to stop.

Pain that hadn't been anything near the level of pain he could have inflicted. He had been involved in hundreds of interrogations during the last war. The warriors he had broken were battled, tested and hardened, but in the end, they had all broken, they always did.

Now the prince was his to command. He would use him to do what the emperor wanted done, nothing more. Then he reveals him as the pampered brat that he was. After that, he had not had the slightest care. Live die, Thargoan had made his own nest. Now he was going to lie in it.

"Captain, we have a problem."

"What kind of problem ensign?" Captain Prey asked, rising from his command chair.

"See for yourself, sir." A few keystrokes later and an image of earth hung above the bridge. From the five remaining Rougarian cruisers, several large objects exited and began to float towards the planet's surface until they disappeared into the atmosphere.

"What are they doing now?" Tomas asked the walls.

"That, sir, is a good question. They might be sending reinforcements to the surface. They may be sending transports to collect the people already there. Without more data, I cannot give you anything more than a guess."

"Thank you Central. Get all the department chiefs in my stateroom in an hour. We have to get on top of this now."

"That's will be difficult, sir. Malachi is outside my sight radius. Unless he wants to be seen, I have no way of knowing when he will return."

"Fine, just get everyone else. He'll be back when he wants, I guess. It's the best we can hope for." With that he walked back and sat at his station, staring at his homeworld, wondering what was going on, on its surface. Looking over to where Joshua was supposed to be, he asked.

"Where is the lieutenant commander?"

"He said he had something to do this morning. That's all he told me."

"Find him. I want him at that meeting as well."