Shattered Alliance

by Benjamin Wallace

  “The people are gathered. You demanded an audience and have said yourself there could be no audience larger than this.”

  “That is not how things are done,” the king said, and raised his arms once more.

  The Rox Tolgath stepped closer to the king and spoke so only the monarch could hear. “You are Jondak, son of Jondal, King of Shandor, Herald of Hymon, Dargon of Hyrole and Priest of the Grand Temple of Konjac. If you do not have the power to change tradition, perhaps the next king will.” The Rox Tolgath glanced down and smiled as Jondak followed his gaze to the blade in his hand.

  Jondak stiffened at the sight of the knife. His voice turned cold. “Fine. As king, I shall set a new precedent here today. We will sign your treaty.” Jondak pushed the knife away. “But not until after the trial. First, we will celebrate justice together.”

  “I look forward to that celebration,” the Rox Tolgath said as he replaced the knife in its sheath and stepped away from the king. When he looked back to the arena, the Earthian was staring at him through the eyes of a mortal enemy. He returned the glare. From one soldier to another, war had been declared. The politicians could work out the details, but conflict was unavoidable. Malbourne was confident in the empire’s might, but he was no longer certain the coming battle would be as easy as the Wargame Masters had predicted. He could see in the man’s eyes that Earth would give them a fight.

  “Dispensing justice is the best part of being a king,” Jondak said to Malbourne while rubbing his hands together. “Next to everyone having to do every single thing that I tell them, of course.”

  Malbourne could see that the king was giddy with the power in his hands. He looked to the Lictor and caught the man’s attention. The look was acknowledged with an all but imperceptible nod. “Remember, your highness,” the Rox Tolgath said. “He must not be killed.”

  “Killed? Of course not,” Jondak said, and waved off the suggestion. “But I promise that he will be beaten and beaten badly.”

  The king raised his arms and the crowd exploded once more. He turned his palms down and they settled so he could speak. “My fine citizens of Shandor. We gather today in the great Gloarn’Kahl, in the presence of our ancestors, to dispense justice so that fairness may rule Shandor. As the great tapestries say, justice comes for all be it pauper or king.” Jondak cast an accusatory finger at the prisoner. “It even comes for Earthmen.”

  The stadium exploded with applause, cheers and an odd whooping that soon grew to overwhelm all the applause and cheers.

  “Captain Antarius Thurgood!” Jondak said, and turned toward the captive in the center of the arena. He held out a hand and one of the royal servants handed him a scroll. With the flick of a wrist, Jondak unfurled the scroll. It was several feet long and piled at his feet. “You stand accused by the scrolls of Charn’thok in violation of the laws of Shandor.”

  “You can roll your scrolls back up and shove ’em, pal,” Antarius said with a gleaming grin. “I may have broken a few records and a few hearts, but I’ve broken no laws.”

  The man’s insolence made the Rox Tolgath smirk, but Jondak grew red with hate. The scales along the back of his neck rose slightly. He turned back to the scroll and read the first charge slowly, as was expected of the High Judge. “You stand accused of War Bringing.”

  “Drop the legalese, buddy,” Antarius said. “I don’t even know what that means,”

  “It means you brought war to our people when you arrived in your engine of destruction,” Jondak said with a wave of his hand to the sky. Roughly, Malbourne observed, where the Peacebringer had been when his own forces had brought it down.

  “I did no such thing!” Antarius turned and appealed to the crowd. “We came in peace at the invitation of your king. We brought the promise of friendship, technology and pizza.”

  Jondak turned to Malbourne and muttered, “I expected as much from an Earthman. They are filled with little more than arrogance.” The king moved on to the next charge. “You stand accused of Treaty Breaking.”

  “That’s preposterous. There was no treaty to break.” The captain turned to the crowd. “These charges are an affront to truth and justice.”

  “The accused will remain silent!” Jondak shouted. He was trembling now. His guards snapped to attention at the outburst, should they be ordered to subdue the man before them.

  “The accused will not!” Antarius shouted back. “I brought no war. I breached no treaty. This trial is a mockery of justice. It’s a kangaroo court. Or whatever thing you have on this ball of dirt that’s like a kangaroo. It’s probably that pig thing again.”

  “You are accused of Etiquette Breaching,” Jondak said.

  “The hell?”

  “No one gets seconds of kordblat before the king,” Jondak snapped.

  “That alcoholic milk stuff? You can’t be serious.”

  “You are accused of Dolgrath Sullying!”

  “That’s that pig thing? Just what are you suggesting?”

  “You are accused of Unwarranted Arrogance.”

  “My arrogance is totally warranted!” Antarius snapped. “I’m amazing!”

  “Silence!”

  “I’ve committed no crimes!”

  Jondak dashed forward. Only the railing that lined the royal box stopped him from running into the arena itself. “You desecrated the sacred harem!”

  “Several times,” Antarius said proudly, and looked to the crowd for their approval. But he found no friends within their ranks.

  Jondak threw the scroll at his nearest aide. The man frantically rolled it up as the king continued the trial. Jondak took the royal scepter from the royal scepter bearer and pointed it at his enemy in the arena. “Enough! You have been brought to face justice in the Gloarn’Kahl. You will take this seriously.”

  The captain narrowed his eyes at the king and stood taller.

  The crowd held its breath.

  The king lowered the scepter, picked up another scroll and started reading the rest of the charges.

  17

  The Ratel should have burned up in Shandor’s atmosphere, and the rescue party should have been several thousand charred bits fluttering to the surface. Instead, the crew was a mass of bruises buried under a pile of sand. It was a testament to Priscilla’s piloting skills that any of them survived the crash at all. Cason wondered if it was her superhuman reflexes that made the feat possible or if she was working on the same dumb luck the rest of humanity was forced to rely on. He considered the question for only a moment before he decided he was better off not knowing. For now, he’d rather believe that she had some incredible superpowers because they were going to need them.

  As soon as the ship stopped crashing, Cason reoriented himself and reached for the targeting controls once more. The guns didn’t respond. It didn’t matter how much he swore or how hard he shook the stick, they remained silent. A quick inspection told him they had been shot off the ship. Or dragged off in the sand. Either way, the guns were gone. The targeting screens were cracked, but they still functioned. He studied the readouts with a sense of dread building in his stomach. How many ships filled the sky in pursuit?

  None?

  He rapped the screen with his knuckles, half expecting it to light up with a dozen threats. But still there was nothing.

  “There’s nothing on the screen. They’re not pursuing?”

  Priscilla was still strapped into the pilot’s seat. He could feel his own bruises forming and he knew he looked like he had just crashed a starship, but she didn’t have a single hair out of place.

  She checked the screens in front of her. “That’s impossible.”

  She rapped the screen with her knuckles as well and got the same result. She flipped through the multiple spectrums on the array but all yielded the same empty skies.

  “Why aren’t they following us?” she asked.

  “Because they think we disintegrated,” Vides said as he strode into the cabin. Blood was pouring from his forehead but he didn’t seem to car
e. He looked at Oncilla briefly and then studied Cason with hard eyes. “Now, which one of you do I have to thank for landing like an amateur and putting an extra hole in my pretty face?”

  “You can thank me,” Priscilla said as she unbuckled her seat’s harness.

  Vides smiled at the woman. “Wonderful landing, darling. Couldn’t have done better myself.”

  “Do you want to explain why they think we disintegrated?” Priscilla asked. She pulled a first aid kit from a nearby compartment and tossed it at Vides.

  The soldier grabbed it out of the air with a smile. “Back in the old days, when our navy was all wet, a submarine under attack would release oil into the water. The oil would float to the surface and the attacking ship would think they sank the sub. They would leave, and our cunning captain would slink off to fight another day.”

  “Is that what you did?” Oncilla asked.

  Vides looked at her long before he answered. “We are in the middle of a desert. Where the hell would I get a submarine? I thought you genefreaks were supposed to be smart.”

  “I didn’t mean literal—”

  “No, what I did was release enough debris to make their computers think they scored a winning hit. Their systems are most likely designed to track the debris. Do it right and it overwhelms them long enough to slip away. It’s an old trick, but it seems our new friends haven’t had it played on them in a long while.”

  Cason studied the monitor. “There’s still nothing on the screen.”

  “And there won’t be. It seems we’ve been giving these boys a little too much credit. Their systems may not even be as advanced as ours.” Vides said. “We could retire here. It would be a nice little home in the desert. No one to bother us.” He smiled at Priscilla. “What do you say?”

  “You mean it?” Priscilla clasped at her heart. “Just you, me and your bigotry?”

  Vides just grinned.

  “We’ve still got a crew to save,” Cason said, and began working at the buckles of his own harness. “We need to get to Kartoka.”

  “We’re not flying anywhere,” Priscilla said.

  Cason stood and began to gather his gear. “So, we walk.”

  He could tell the smuggler wasn’t thrilled with the idea. She made no move to prepare.

  “Or you can just stay here with Commander Smooth.” Cason pointed to Vides, who raised a single eyebrow in response.

  She rolled her eyes and grabbed her gear. “Let’s go.”

  The Ratel’s boarding ramp dug into the sand as it lowered. Thankfully there was still more than enough room to get out of the ship and into the Shandoran desert. The heat smacked Cason in the face like he was checking on cookies. It was a dry heat. But that only meant that they could smell the air baking around them.

  From the looks of things, they had crashed into the largest dune around. It was also the closest thing to a landmark in sight. Golden sand and misery stretched out in all directions.

  Vides wouldn’t even step out of the shade. “You two have a nice stroll.”

  “You’re coming with us,” Cason said.

  “Oh, I don’t think so.”

  “Those are your orders,” Cason said.

  “It’s so cute how you think you’re in charge,” Vides said with a tone that was the verbal equivalent of pinching someone’s cheek. “I can come with you. Hell, I’ll hold your hand if you’d like, but if you want your cavalry, I’ll be staying here. My armor went everywhere in that crash. I’m going to get it back together. But don’t you worry. I’ll be ready when you need me. I always am. That’s how the cavalry works.” Vides stepped back into the ship. The boarding ramp pulled up behind him, sealing away what was left of the Ratel from Shandor’s brutal sun.

  “Well, that guy is obviously a bag full of nuts.” Priscilla said.

  “You’re not wrong. The guy is crazy.” Cason said, staring at the closed door. “I just hope it’s the kind of crazy we can count on.”

  She laughed and pointed at Vides through the door. He was making faces at them through a small porthole. “You think we can count on that?

  “I think if we need to, we won’t have much choice.” Cason turned and looked into the desert in the general direction of Kartoka. It hurt his eyes. He took a deep sandy breath and said, “This is going to be fun.”

  They walked quietly for the first half hour. Every time they tried to speak, they could see their words evaporate in the heat. Instead they each took in the desert, assessed the situation and tried to think of ways to describe precisely how miserable the whole experience was. But, soon, the silence was just as annoying as the blowing sand.

  “I’m sorry about G’Har,” Cason said.

  “No you’re not.”

  “No, I’m not. He was a jerk,” Cason said. “I am sorry about your ship.”

  “It’s just a ship,” Priscilla said with a shrug. “I’ll steal another one.”

  Cason smiled at her response.

  “Oh, I’m sorry Mr. Private Super Spy. I didn’t mean to offend your moral code.”

  This brought a laugh. “It’s not that. I guess I never pictured you changing ships just like that. I always took you for more of the Wild West outlaw with their faithful steed. Or the swarthy pirate with an undying faithfulness to their vessel.”

  “Swarthy?” Priscilla said with a smile. “Oh, I like swarthy. But, no, it’s not wise to get too attached to a ship. I’d rather steal a new one every year or so. It makes the job easier, too. You don’t want to pull into a spaceport in something that’s so easy to identify.”

  “Then I had completely misread you. No wonder you were so hard to catch.”

  “I guess I should be flattered you spent so much time thinking about me.” Priscilla stopped and gasped. A smile overtook her face like he had never seen. “Oh my God.”

  “What?”

  “I just realized. I’m your nemesis!”

  “You’re not my nemesis.”

  She laughed. “I’m totally your nemesis.”

  “You’re not my…. You’re not the only criminal I’ve had to chase across the galaxy.”

  “But I am the only one you had to chase twice. Right?”

  “We need to get moving.” Cason turned back into the sun and resumed walking.

  “Nemesis,” she said, taking delight in every syllable.

  Cason shook his head and looked off into the distance. He wanted to change the subject but there was nothing to use as a segue but desert. The carpet of sand stretched out forever. “What is it with these desert planets? They’re always more trouble than they are worth.”

  “I don’t know,” Priscilla said, and graciously let him off the nemesis hook. “I’ve found some of the more quote-unquote civilized places cause the biggest problems. Out here, you can get away with almost anything.”

  “I guess a lawless planet is a criminal’s dream.”

  “No thank you,” she said. “Give me law and order any day of the week.”

  “Really?”

  “Really. It reduces the competition and creates opportunities for someone with a more fluid definition of right and wrong.”

  “I was always told there was opportunity in chaos,” Cason countered.

  “Sure, but there’s way more opportunity in complacency. Chaos teaches people that anyone could walk up at any moment and punch them in the face. Complacency doesn’t. So they never see the punch in the face coming. But out here, on worlds like Shandor, where things are a little less structured and a little more dangerous, people tend to be a little more focused on themselves instead of everybody else.”

  “And you think that’s a good thing?” Cason asked.

  “It’s a great thing.”

  “You think a lack of compassion—”

  “There’s no lack of compassion. I’d bet there’s more compassion on Shandor than all of the charitable organizations back on Earth. They only have each other. No one’s looking out for them here. Fewer things scare me more than an institution that has
my best interests at heart.”

  Cason let out a deep sigh and looked up in the sky. He couldn’t tell from looking what time of day it was. With so many moons, Shandor had partial eclipses all day long, and they were about to get a slight respite from the sun as a mid-afternoon evening sky grew overhead. There were twinkling lights beyond the haze of the atmosphere, and he knew he was looking at the enemy fleet. There were so many. “It looks like lawlessness may be the order of the day.”

  She followed his gaze and studied the lights in the sky. “I guess we’re on the cusp of the Alliance’s downfall. Funny, it just feels like a Tuesday.”

  “I wouldn’t count us out just yet,” Cason said, and resumed the trek through the sand.

  “They have more ships in that blockade than the Alliance does in their entire fleet. Your entire army is back there in a wrecked ship and he’s a bit of an asshole.”

  “Those are both good points,” Cason conceded. “But the spirit of the Alliance is as strong as ever.”

  She laughed again. This one was less pleasant and much more condescending. “You don’t get out of the core much, do you?”

  He turned to face her. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  She threw up her hands in frustration and spoke as if it was all obvious. “The Alliance has been in decline for years. Your spirit of the Alliance is shaky at best.”

  “There isn’t a planet in the galaxy that doesn’t want to be a part of it,” Cason said.

  “That’s because they didn’t have a choice. Now did they?”

  This wasn’t a new argument. It was one of the oldest. But, until very recently, it had been purely hypothetical. What if the worlds were presented with another option? Would they switch allegiances? Many argued that the memory of atrocities would drive many worlds out. But he considered it all part of the past.

  “How many planets are part of it because they want to be, and how many joined because they didn’t have a choice?”

  “The Alliance ended invasions a century ago,” Cason said. “Everyone has a choice.”

  Priscilla pointed to the sky above. The midafternoon evening was waning quickly but the fleet was still visible. “They do now.”