Gen needs a new planet so their warlords were sent out to get one. But they ran across a woman from Earth who convinced them that being nice would get them farther.
All Lord Garth wanted was to find, and aquire, a new planet for his people. His planet was dying. His people needed a new place to survive.
All Ambur wanted was to get back home. She had no idea where she was. She had been captured by some fearsome, aggravating warlord who didn't want her in the first place. His crew were the ones who got her without his knowledge. All because they thought she was someone else. But now he's let her go in a part of space she knew nothing about. Drifting loose in her own ship. What was she going to do now?
But now the warlord's ship is being attacked and beaten down by those who he was trying to steal a planet from. And the warlord's figher plane is whirling off into space as if he is unconscious. Should she go after him? No one else seems to notice him disappearing into the distance.
With a huge sigh, she decides and tracks him down, takes his ship on board her own, then wonders of she has gone insane. What insues then is a long trip back to his home world with just the two of them on board her ship, of which he has taken control. Just the two of them. Bickering. Discussing. Arguing. Fighting off enemies. Can they survive? Ambur believes they can but Lord Garth wonders if his sanity will when this trip is over.
Excerpt
“Oh—My—God!”
The words fairly wrenched themselves from her throat as Ambur brought her small, five man crew spaceship to a screeching halt. Through the window there on the bridge, an actual window that spanned the entire front of the room, she gazed out at the unfamiliar vastness of stars spread before her in a suddenly smothering blanket of uneven clusters. There was nothing in her computers that contained a map of this part of space where she now drifted. Silently, anxiously, she searched her files again for anything, a shred of anything, that might show her the way home. The battle raged behind her.
Thoughts of the last three days haunted her. She tried to push them away but they just wouldn’t go. A stirring commenced within her, growing out of the fear into a mixture of anger and grief. Reene was dead now and it was all the fault of that heinous warlord from Gen. . .Lord Garth. She almost laughed at his name. Such an ordinary, unthreatening, Earth-type name, she thought, for one so alien and hideous to look at. Oh, he looked human in form, standing nearly seven feet tall, one head, two arms, a torso, two legs and feet, two hands, but that was all she could tell about him. His shimmering armor made it hard sometimes to even see him. But what was he? A coward, she decided, who hid behind a faceless mask. . .no eyes. . .no curve for a nose. . .no mouthpiece. . .just a shining, shimmering, featureless apparition that began at the back of his head, up over it and down in one, graceless sweep to what should have been his chin. And transfixed anyone who looked upon him like a Medusa that vibrated, as did the rest of his armor, within a color spectrum that could only have been hell born. Was it black or was it blood red? And his cloak. Was it substance or was it a shivering illusion? And he knew the Power.
Ambur wondered about that. The Power, Reene had called it and said the word in almost a religious reverence. Only a few of her people had learned it. However, as far as she knew, all the warlords of Gen knew it.
Ambur could accept a telekinetic ability, after all it was being explored on her home planet, but Reene had likened it to magic. According to her it was using the energy force of nature to do one’s bidding. That was plausible enough but she had pressed on with the fact that, if the Power was used for evil, it would destroy the user. Ambur had trouble with that part until she remembered that, in her studies back home, it was proven that final annihilation was always the fate of evildoers. The Power began to take on a more realistic aspect.
Suddenly Ambur’s craft was filled with a blinding light. She thought she had been hit until she realized she hadn’t felt any repercussions from contact. Surely I’m far enough away, she thought as she cautiously turned her ship around to view the combatants. Through the huge, front window, she saw it was the giant Gennian battleship, her former prison. The Siran Rebellion had hit its mark.
“Oh my,” she breathed and stared in awe at the remaining charred and frayed bulk of the monster. Flashes of static explosions still emanated from it in places. She felt a sadness for the loss of such a mechanism but a gladness overwhelmed her sorrow in the fact that the Sirans had won the battle. Too late for Reene, though, she thought and sighed. Her friend from the planet Sira, her human looking cellmate, her first meeting with a being from another planet; as far as she knew it was the first ever for anyone from Earth, was dead. Her friends were too late.
The slight, peculiar movement that had been touching upon her consciousness, demanding attention, finally caught her eye at the left edge of the huge window. She looked toward it, squinting to see more clearly, but could only make out a small metal object pirouetting its way out into the vast collection of stars.
She pressed a button on her console to see what it was, then gave a start of surprise. “Oh, my god, it’s Lord Garth!” She recognized his plane as the one he had boarded in the great hold of his ship. She had been in that hold, too, because for some reason Lord Garth had released her right after the attack from the Sirans. He told her she was free to go and escape the battle as best she might. This had been a surprise.
Her captor in trouble made Ambur pause. The dim, grey cell, which had been her prison, with its faint but sickening odor of stale oil and lubricants was strong in her memory. The barely audible, yet still head splitting, high pitched whine and basso drumming of what. . .perhaps only the engines of the huge monster battleship was also strongly implanted on her brain as was the memory of Reene, her only alien friend who had been killed in the crossfire between the two enemy forces.
Ambur looked from the little plane to the remaining fighters and thought, surely they will notice Lord Garth isn’t among them. It didn’t appear as though they would. Ambur watched until she began to feel really anxious but the fighters continued to only appear concerned about the enemy fighters they were rounding up.
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