Free Neverwylde by Linda Mooney Page B

Seneecian refused to use Terranese. However, Kyber could be just as obstinate. This wasn’t the first time he and his D’har had butted heads, but this time he knew he couldn’t back down. He couldn’t allow the D’har to use rank to overturn him. Not now, and not ever again.
    “The rules have changed,” Kyber responded, still using Terranese. “This planet is a Class H hostile environment. Initially, yes, we fought each other, but we soon realized we had no choice but to close ranks. By joining together, we’ve been able to remain alive.”
    As he expected the D’har would do, the Seneecian snarled in disgust. “The crash must have addled your brains, Por D’har. However, your decisions are no longer valid. I hereby remove all command from you and assume the chair.” The D’har cast steely looks at Gaveer and Massapa, who automatically bowed their heads in deference. “Is that all of you?”
    The temple grew quiet when no one answered. Not a good sign, especially when the D’har had asked a question. The only problem was, he hadn’t asked anyone directly. Kyber could sense his men waiting for him to reply, since he was technically their superior, even though they had voluntarily stripped themselves of rank and entitlement due to their present circumstances.
    Not getting an answer, the D’har pointedly directed his attention to his second in command. “I repeat, is that all of you?”
    “No, D’har. There are five others, Kith Tojun and four Terrans.”
    “Where?” The Seneecian looked around. “Where are they? We arrived here two days ago, and we have scoured this structure without finding any further signs of life. Where is your base camp?”
    “It’s subterranean,” Kyber informed him, and waved his hand in the direction of the maze. “There are several sub-structures below here, including a garden-like atmosphere with edible food and drinking water.”
    The look of relief on the other two Seneecians’ faces made it evident they were low on supplies. Or, more likely, had been without for some time. Jules must have noticed their expressions as well, and walked over to them as he dug into his pockets.
    Automatically, all three Seneecians aimed their blasters at them. Jules blanched and threw up his hands.
    “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold up, guys. I just wanted to share.”
    Reaching back into his pocket, he pulled out a handful of the blue fruit and held it out to them. The two crew members looked to the D’har for permission, who finally grunted his approval. Eagerly, the men snatched the fruit from Jules’ hand. Kyber noticed no one thanked the Terran for his gesture.
    Pulling a few from his own pouch, he advanced toward the D’har and offered them, knowing the man would not accept anything from the Terran. The D’har gave a brief bob of his head and took the food.
    After a few moments of eating, the Seneecian glanced around. “If your base camp is below ground level, why did you ascend and leave four members behind?”
    Kyber bowed his head, partly to show obedience, but mostly to hide the fiery pain shooting through his neck and shoulder, all the way down his left arm to his hand and fingers. If there was anything to be thankful for, it was that the shot had hit him in the muscle, missing major arteries and bone. Plus, the blaster’s ray had cauterized the wound upon impact, keeping the blood loss to a minimum. Still, protocol demanded he not make a sound or in any way show he was hurting to the point where the D’har would demand he step down and allow another to take his place. Kyber knew that, at some point, perhaps soon, the others would have to choose sides. Which meant the other five Seneecian crew members would have to decide who to follow. Who to obey. Whose decisions to accept. If the D’har removed him from his ranking, it would be a temporary demotion. But if someone else was promoted to replace him, Kyber would lose any chance to overrule the D’har.
    He flexed his fingers.