by Richard Fox
Hale nodded. “I have an idea about that. You all remember the macro cannons emplaced around the Sol System?”
All three nodded.
“Used them to blow the shit out of the Xaros when they attacked Earth,” Handley said. “Basically huge rail-gun batteries mounted on orbital platforms. They’re a bear to put together, though.”
“The components are unique to the weapon system,” Martel said. “We’d have to dedicate printing time—not to mention needing platforms large enough to support them.”
Hale shook his head. “That’s the easy part. The platforms are already available. We just need to find them.”
“You’re talking about asteroids,” Marie said.
“That’s right.”
Marie hesitated for a moment, rubbing her chin as she considered the idea. “It’d take a fairly significant bit of engineering to pull it off.”
“Might give Tanner something better to do with her time than organizing all these protests,” Handley said.
Hale chuckled. “I doubt that.”
“If we’re talking about shifting production priorities again, we’re probably going to want to look at adding more security to the foundries,” Marie said.
Martel laughed. “Those protesters? They’re all talk.”
“It’s ridiculous that we’re forced to resort to these stringent security requirements just to protect our projects from our own people,” Handley said. “Tanner really does have them spun into a frenzy, doesn’t she?”
“I’m not so much worried about Tanner’s people.” Hale nodded to Martel. “Like she said, most of them will talk a big game to their buddies, but when it comes right down to it, they’ll scatter like flies. I just don’t want people to become complacent. Complacency kills. A heightened sense of security keeps the threat of attack fresh in everyone’s minds. Keeps them focused.”
“And the fact that their living conditions are being vastly improved by what the doughboys are doing helps,” Marie said. “The last report I received said the first set of apartments were almost complete and people should be moving in within the next few days. The original estimates of several months have been slashed by almost three-quarters.”
“Yeah, I don’t see them protesting that,” Handley muttered. “And what’s this I hear about our first bona fide restaurant?”
“Well, I don’t know if I’d call it a restaurant just yet,” Martel said. “There isn’t anywhere to sit down, but Jeff makes a hell of a steak.”
“I don’t know that I’ll be trying his lizard meat anytime soon,” Marie said, turning up her nose.
Martel laughed. “Tastes just like beef, I promise. And lizard isn’t the best comparison, more like a cow with scales.”
Marie shivered.
“Maybe we should try it out,” Hale said, giving Marie a playful nudge.
“Why, Mr. Hale, are you asking me out on a date? How romantic.”
Hale smiled. “I want to make sure everyone’s getting downtime. If and when the Triumvirate show up, I want all our people well rested.”
“Oh, maybe we can have a colony cookout,” Martel said, grinning.
Hale resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “I know it’s not all candy and roses, but if we work everyone ragged, they’ll have nothing left when we really need them.”
Chapter 6
After leaving the coast, the hyperloop had taken them several kilometers inland, through thick, hilly jungle. Here and there they passed large, jagged stone spires that jutted out of the jungle like fingers reaching up from the ground. Vines hung between several groups of trees, wrapping around branches and over stones. Like the jungles on Earth, this place was home to seemingly hundreds of species—from small brown-colored, six-legged rodents to red-and-yellow striped tiger analogs with curved spikes growing from their shoulders.
The pylons holding up the hyperloop track had been disguised to look like the surrounding trees, giving the impression that the transparent tube was floating in midair.
“It’s almost like a zoo,” Birch said.
“A what?” Jor asked him, raising an eyebrow at the drone wrangler.
“Sorry. On Earth, we have artificial enclosures for our animals to show them off and protect them. We call them zoos. A lot of places have rides similar to this, letting people experience the animals in their natural habitat.”
“Natural-ish,” Nunez said.
“Keeping them penned up against their will?” Jena asked, frowning.
Birch shrugged. “Sometimes that’s the only way to protect them. Before the Xaros war, several species were hunted to extinction, and some others were so near to it that the only way to save the animals was to house them in sanctuaries.”
“I doubt you have a problem with people hunting out here,” Carson said, thinking of the massive caldryl and its rows of razor-sharp teeth.
“No kidding,” Nunez agreed.
“We have some,” Jena admitted, “but not many. There are times when you can fly shuttles in and out, but it is still extremely risky. They don’t attack the larger vessels, but preservation laws prohibit anything larger than transport shuttles, except in extreme emergencies.”
A chime sounded and echoed softly through the capsule as a holographic face of a Zeis male appeared in the center of the pod. His orange hair was cut short, his goat-like eyes moving from person to person inside the pod until they fell on Jor and he paused.
“So,” he said, not taking his eyes off Jor. “You found him.”
“I did,” Jena said.
At least she’s consistent, Carson thought, noting that the Zeis woman didn’t feel the need to explain herself, even to other Zeis.
Jor looked away, almost like he was pouting, staring out through the capsule’s glass wall.
“I need to speak to my father, Benit,” Jena said.
“He is not here.”
“I understand. Will you get a message to him?”
“I have already taken the liberty.” He paused briefly then finally turned away from Jor to face Jena. “You should know that the Palace has been notified of your arrival.” A hand appeared in the holo image as Jena opened her mouth to speak. “I know—it was not one of our people, I can assure you. Someone at the spaceport sent the message, along with images of your guests. I can only assume they know he is back.”
“That complicates things.”
Jor turned away from the window. “Maybe I should just—”
“No,” Jena said, interrupting him. “You are under Cleric protection. I will vouch for you. Even the Royal Family will hesitate at that.”
The hologram paused, obviously considering Jena’s words. The Zeis woman’s stoic face revealed nothing and Carson found herself wondering exactly how much authority Jena possessed if the Clerics were above even the Royal Family.
“It won’t matter,” Benit said.
The capsule’s momentum slowed and Carson craned her head to one side to see around the hologram, watching as the thick jungle gave way to a vast clearing. Ahead, a massive compound loomed: a complex arrangement of squat concrete buildings surrounded by several steel towers covered by reflective glass windows. A security wall surrounded the complex, topped with three glowing lines of energy that caused the air to ripple around them. Guard towers were positioned every hundred meters or so, complete with large weapons manned by three or four Zeis guards.
“What is this, a prison?” Nunez asked.
A hatch cut into the concrete wall opened like an iris as the capsule neared. They passed through the wall, and it closed as soon as they were through. The capsule slowed as it approached the covered platform, where several Zeis guardsmen were already waiting.
“Is everything all right?” Carson asked, standing.
“My world has been going through some troubling times as of late, and my family has been at the forefront of it all,” Jena said. “The extra security is only a precaution. Benit tends to be overly cautious at the best of times. I expect the event
s of Diasore have only heightened that mentality.”
The capsule cycled through the tube’s airlock and slowed to a stop in the middle of the platform.
Jena and Carson led the way onto the platform and met the security team, who were armed with rifles slung across their chests. They all wore blue and white uniforms, some of them with various medals and ribbons pinned above the right breast pocket. Benit’s cluster of decorations surpassed the rest of the group’s by two rows, and the gold epaulets on his shoulders identified him as someone of note.
“I apologize for the…” Benit hesitated for a moment, glancing over his shoulder at the guards standing behind him, “…security, Cleric. Your father’s critics have become increasingly vocal since the last conclave. Refradnar has even called for his expulsion.”
Jena stiffened. “He can’t do that.”
“And yet, he has.”
“Where is he?” Jena asked.
Benit eyed the line of humans behind Jena suspiciously.
“It is OK, Benit. They are trustworthy.”
His eyes narrowed, as if he were considering whether or not she was speaking under duress. Finally, he said, “He was making a plea to the Regulos for intervention.”
Jena shook her head. “And I take it the Isolationists haven’t remained quiet about it.”
“We have been dealing with attacks and demonstrations at every single one of our businesses and stations. Some of our allies in the capital have already gone underground.”
“The Crown is allowing this violence to happen in the capital?”
“The King has not condoned anything.”
“But he’s not condemning it either.”
Benit nodded.
“We will have to deal with that.” Jena motioned to the humans behind her. “This is Chief Kit Carson. She and her team helped us find Jor and rescued us from the Ultari invasion. Chief Carson, this is my father’s Chief of Staff, Benit.”
Carson stepped up, extending a hand. “Good to meet you.”
The security chief eyed her outstretched hand and ignored it. “The invasion of Diasore has caused quite an uproar in the Conclave. The Regulos ambassador was recalled just this morning. Apparently, the Regulos are consolidating their forces.”
“I’m sure that has only given more credence to Refradnar’s rhetoric,” Jena said as she stepped around Benit, heading away from the capsule to a door on the far end of the platform.
The security team fell into step, surrounding the group but leaving enough room to give the illusion of privacy. A wide, elevated walkway led them across a well-manicured lawn, decorated with marble statues of caldryl and standing Zeis figures. A large fountain sprayed multiple water columns into the air that continuously danced around each other.
The stone buildings were obviously older, when compared to the newer, modern steel structures with glass walls. As they neared the palace at the end of a long, tree-lined promenade, the buildings grew increasingly more advanced and larger. A few looked like three- and four-story apartments.
Several Zeis, dressed in colorful, flowing clothes, moved through the park, sharing private conversations. A few noticed the new arrivals and stopped to watch, some pointing and whispering among themselves.
A flock of colorful birds chirped annoyance at the group as they passed, lifting off the figures’ extended arms, buffeting the air briefly before settling back down, keeping wary eyes locked on the group.
“My great-grandmother built it,” Jena explained. “She had expensive tastes, as you can see.”
“I’ll say,” Nunez said, leaning over the railing to get a better look at two Zeis women walking the other direction on the ground below. Moretti smacked the back of his head with an open palm. “Hey! Easy!”
West leaned close to Carson as they descended a flight of stairs that brought them to ground level. “Seems to be trouble at home?”
“It does seem like that, doesn’t it?”
“It’s going to be tough to convince them to help us if they’re having this much trouble within their own ranks.”
Carson nodded. “Agreed. But I refuse to go back to Hale empty-handed. If we strike out here, we’ll just have to try somewhere else. Look on the bright side: it can’t be any worse than the damn Regulos bureaucracy.”
“Don’t speak too soon,” West cautioned. “We don’t know anything about these people or their internal politics. Could be worse. At least the Regulos were consistent. If they’re having as much civil strife as it seems, it might be more difficult to recruit them.”
“Maybe those Burathi you liked so much?”
West laughed. “Not a chance. You couldn’t pay me enough to meet with another one of those things.”
“You’re not getting paid at all,” Carson said.
“Touché.”
“In all seriousness, though,” Carson said, “from your own account, they’re accomplished warriors and aggressive. That could work in our favor if we can convince them we’re the good guys.”
“Yeah, well, you didn’t have to practically electrocute one to get him to stop attacking you. But you do have a point. If we could have a conversation with them, they’d make potent allies, for sure.”
“This place is beautiful,” Popov said.
“It really is,” Jerry added. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Popov gave the oldest Hale boy an annoyed stare.
“What?” Jerry asked, hands out to his side. “I was agreeing with you.”
The palace—made up of several domed buildings and steel towers covered by windows—was easily the largest structure in the compound. Most of the larger buildings were connected by arched bridges. Three spires, each standing twelve stories tall, rose high above the main buildings. A wide staircase led them up to an open archway, where a set of double doors were silently swinging open.
“That’s impressive,” Nunez said, shaking his head at the massive doors as he passed.
Carson couldn’t disagree. She wondered if everything on the planet was so ostentatious.
Their footsteps echoed on the polished marble floor as they entered the palace proper. The foyer opened into a multilevel chamber, and each level ended in a curved terrace overlooking the room’s centerpiece on the ground floor.
A life-size holo projection of a caldryl flickered slightly on a steel pedestal, the image stirring as the group approached. Its triangular head turned, as if it had noticed them entering, and it opened its long beak in a silent roar. It stood on its hind legs, extending its two sets of long, bat-like wings out to either side, the longer pair spanning fifteen meters from tip to tip.
“A freaking nightmare,” Jerry muttered under his breath. “Damn evil-looking dragon monster.”
Nunez clapped him on the back. “Bright side is, they can swallow you whole, less chewing.”
“Per your request, Almon has laid out refreshments in the dining hall, Cleric,” Benit said as they made their way deeper into the palace.
“Excellent,” Jena said.
Carson hadn’t been thinking about food until the Cleric had mentioned it, but now her stomach rumbled with anticipation. They’d been restricted to ration packs for several months, a concession Hale had made to appease the colonists—not that Carson had complained. They were Pathfinders and accustomed to not eating real food for months on end.
“Oh man, I’m starving. Do you people have steak here?” Nunez asked, turning and walking backward, watching the caldryl settle back down on its pedestal.
Carson glared at West and the non-comm nodded, clenching his jaw. West cleared his throat, pulling Nunez’s attention away from the holo image.
“A guy can ask, can’t he?” Nunez said, holding his arms out to his sides.
“I’m sure Chef Almon will have something that you will appreciate,” Jena said.
The dining hall was a long, rectangular chamber with high ceilings and arched windows on either side. Decorative chandeliers hovered in the air above the table, t
heir soft glow washed out by the sunlight filtering in through the bay windows on either side of the room. The rectangular table stretched almost the entire length of the room, surrounded by high-backed padded wooden chairs. Place settings had already been laid out and a selection of foods waited in several ornate dishes.
“Now that’s impressive,” Jerry said, moving quickly with Nunez to find a seat.
“I’m a little embarrassed to say this, Jena,” Carson said, putting a hand on the back of one of the chairs, “but we’re not royalty or anything. We’re just scouts.”
“Speak for yourself, Chief,” Nunez said around a mouthful of charred meat.
Moretti slipped on his medi-gauntlet and held his scanner over several dishes. “Everything looks edible, Chief. No toxins detected at all.”
“It’s very good,” West said after taking a bite of what looked like a blue apple.
The urge to move on, to push forward with the mission was overwhelming, but her team had been through hell over the last several months, so taking some time to recuperate would do them well—and, she admitted, she was hungry.
She took a seat, considered the many options before her, then skewered a thin slice of meat, cut a slice, and popped it into her mouth. The outside of the meat was slightly charred, but the inside was tender and juicy, with a hint of spice.
Jena smiled, motioning to the table. “We export to dozens of off-world clients. Our foods are considered some of the most prized delicacies in the galaxy.”
“I can see why,” Nunez said, his mouth full.
“I must step away for a short time,” Jena said. “If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to ask. The servants have been instructed to assist you. Jor…”
The male Zeis waved her off. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Jena nodded then left.
Over the next hour, the Pathfinders settled in, eating their fill and carrying on conversations among themselves as servants kept their drinks topped off. The clinking of silverware and glasses echoed throughout the expansive room. No matter how much they ate, dishes were refilled with a seemingly endless supply of food.
