Sneak Previews of the Writing in "When Only the Moon Rages"

Desert of the Heart

For the past five years Shardon Lo�och and his Band had survived. They had survived the Xthythze�s bombardment of Rinnlaar, their world. They had survived the plague and biomechanical monsters. They had even survived other survivors. Then things changed.

The first portent of change came at twilight after a long day�s march. Shardon stood atop a rock outcropping, inspecting the camp through binoculars. The tents were arranged in a semicircle at the foot of a dune, their fabric popping in the wind of an approaching storm. Goats and sheep milled around a pen outside the camp, hexabous--six-legged, oxen-like creatures indigenous to Rinnlaar�were staked nearby. Though inedible to humans, they made excellent pack animals.

On the tops of surrounding dunes, sentries appeared as dark forms against the stars. Camogenerators dotted the perimeter, producing an electronic distortion field that shielded the camp from detection--orbital or surface.

Shardon nodded with satisfaction, climbed down from his perch, and struck out toward camp. The wind chilled his bones, and he welcomed a chance to relax by a warm heatcube.

He was halfway to the camp when the particle beam slashed across the sky. It was magenta--the hue of a Xthythzian CPB--and he feared the enemy had somehow bypassed the camogenerators and detected his band. The next beam would set the tents aflame and burn the sand beneath them into glass.

Shardon ran toward the camp, shouting the warning.

"Take cover! The Xthythze!"

Robes flying, people dropped whatever they were doing and raced away from the camp. But the hot lance never came.

Shardon turned his eyes back to the sky. Another beam flashed across the darkening sky, indigo this time. Consortium�s color�

What�s a Consortium warship doing here?

Rinnlaar was neither a member of Consortium, nor a protectorate, only a trading partner. Of course that hadn�t stopped the Xthythze from attacking her--Shardon remembered the destruction of Rinnlaar City with bitterness. Maryam, his wife, and Hasfah, his daughter, had died when the magenta beams ripped out of the sky without warning, burning the Rinlaar City into a smoking slag heap and annihilating her inhabitants.

After destroying the city and the nearby petrochem fields, the Xthythze turned their weapons on the lush coasts of Rinnlaar�s single ocean, reducing the planet�s arable lands into burned out wastes.

Like most of Rinlaar's few survivors, Shardon fled into the desert with Yusef, his son. Together they gathered sheep, goats, and hexabous, and returned to the nomadic way of life his Bedouin ancestors had followed in the time of the Prophet more than twenty-five centuries before.

Over time others joined them, for protection and comradeship. Soon the band numbered over one hundred-fifty. Though many of the band�s members were Arab, a mixture of races and cultures composed the group. Under the pressure of surviving on post-invasion Rinlaar, they band�s various factions, cultures, and religions adapted. They learned to put their differences aside and work together. Sex roles changed, and--even among the band�s Muslim population--women attained equal status with men. The deserts of Rinlaar were a harsh mistress, and the demands of survival brought swift change.

Shardon pushed his memories away and watched the battle, other members of the band scattered over the desert doing the same.

A Xthythzian CPB beam broke through the Consortium ship�s defense shields and enveloped it in a magenta corona. The Consortium ship struggled to break away, traced an erratic path across the heavens, but failed to escape the powerful Xthythzian beam�s hold. A fiery orange glow signaling its contact with Rinnlaar�s atmosphere, the Consortium ship careered out of control.

In the atmospheric turbulence, the Xthythzian beam�s grip weakened, and the Consortium ship broke free. Again the indigo beams lanced the heavens. But the Consortium ship�s final volley went wild, finding only empty space.

A brilliant white fireball streaked away from the Xthythzian ship--plasma torpedo.

The Consortium ship staggered upon impact and, shields shimmering as their last vestiges of power waned, plummeted toward the planet�s surface.

The Xthythzian warship fired one last volley�its magenta beams streaking across the now black heavens in one final assault--before vanishing into the vast blackness between the stars.

After skimming across the upper reaches of the Rinlaarian atmosphere for a few breathless moments, the Consortium ship pulled up into a less precipitous descent. Shardon realized that, though the ship was doomed, its occupants still had partial control. The ship took a heading that would bring it almost directly overhead. No doubt, the pilots were planing to attempt a controlled crash landing in the desert wastes near the Rinlaar�s antarctic cap.

"Yusef, set spotters out and track that ship," he said. "I want to know where it comes down--there may be survivors."

"To hell with those Consortium pigs!" Yusef said. "Where were they when we needed help! Where were they when my mother and sister burned! They didn�t care then! Why should we help them now?"

Shardon knew it was true, but he also knew this war was no longer about one political entity�s disagreement with another--it had ceased to be that long ago. Now it was a question of the survival of the human race.

"They�re human and therefore our brothers," Shardon

said. "Do as I say.

"Yes, father," Yusef said, turned, and barked out the

orders.

A dozen men and women scrambled to the tops of the surrounding rocky outcroppings that dotted this part of Rinlaar's Great Southern Desert to track the Consortium ship. Shardon climbed atop his rocky observatory and watched.

The fireball faded, and a glowing ion trail replaced it as the ship continued to decrease its angle of descent. The sound, a distant rumbling like far away thunder, grew louder as the ship penetrated the lower reaches of the Rinnlaarian atmosphere.

A few seconds later the rumbling gave way to a series of sonic booms. The ship's heading stayed the same: The Consortium ship's course would take it directly above camp.

Shardon peered through his binoculars, fingering the night-imaging adjustment wheel until the ship, a Galaxy Class Battle Cruiser, leapt into focus.

Deep scars marred the ship�s surface, its hull warped

and twisted into impossible shapes and glowing with latent

energy in places. External antennae and pods were slag heaps shimmering with latent energy, and the main CPB batteries were badly damaged. The engine deck, though, had suffered the brunt of the plasma torpedo�s impact--holed clean through, it was an amorphous mass of melted alloy. One fusion engine remained in operation, its tormented wail promising imminent failure. This vessel would never see space again. To land without killing everyone on board would be miracle enough.

The ground trembled beneath Shardon�s feet as the ship passed no more than a few hundred meters overhead, emitting another series of sonic booms. He turned and watched until it vanished below the horizon.

"Yusef, do you have a fix an the craft�s final position?"

"Just a minute, father, I�m calculating speed and

vectors now," he said, fingers flying over his QuickNav�s

keypad. "I have it. The Consortium pig's will crash ninety-five klicks south-southwest of here in six seconds. Five seconds, four seconds...."

All eyes turned to watch as he counted down.

"Three seconds . . . two seconds . . . one."

No fireball ever came. Only the distant sound of screaming metal. Perhaps someone survived.

"All right," Shardon said at last, "I want guard details doubled--the Xthythze may still be in the area. Everyone else get as much rest as you can, tomorrow we march

for the crash site."

He walked slowly toward his tent. It had been an

eventful and troubling evening.

Why was a Consortium Battle Cruiser in this sector? Had Consortium sent Rinnlaar much needed aid?

He doubted that. They had their hands full maintaining their most important outposts. Perhaps the ship had somehow gotten off course, though that seemed unlikely. Whatever the reason, Shardon needed to know.

You'll find the conclusion of Desert of the Heart and more in "When Only the Moon Rages."