The Tribari Freedom Chronicles Boxset

by Rachel Ford

  Little Trapper’s colony, that planetary backwater, had kept its secret for generations. But now it was out. Now, Central took notice. A new governor was appointed, processing facilities constructed, new workers imported.

  “Oh, I think you do,” Governor Nees said. “I’ll give you twelve hours, Captain. I expect you planet-side within that time. Just you. Unarmed. You have my word, of course, that you will be in no danger. We only want to talk.”

  “You know I can’t do that.”

  She shrugged. “Then you can explain to the Grand Leader yourself how you lost sixty-three trillion gallons of crude in a single day.”

  “What you’re proposing is terrorism, Governor. Is that how you uphold your oath of service? By destroying a resource that belongs to all Tribari?”

  “If you’re concerned, Captain, all you have to do is get on the shuttle. From where I’m sitting, that’s your call. Not mine.” She smiled again. “You have my terms. You know how to contact me. You will, I trust, protect the interests of the home world.” With that, the screen went dark.

  “Dammit,” he swore under his breath. “Godsdammit.” Nees had him over a barrel, and she knew it – trillions of barrels, and all of them oil.

  For a minute, he considered the situation. Under normal circumstances, he would be within his rights, now, to launch an extraction. She had refused to comply with his deadline. She’d offered an ultimatum instead. She was threatening a resource that could cost Central trillions of retkas.

  But his orders were clear. He wasn’t to engage in military action on the surface. Central didn’t want to risk any action that might imperil the resource, and a planet-side war would certainly do so.

  He thought about radioing in the situation and asking for a revision of his orders, now that the situation had changed. But he dismissed the idea as soon as it entered his mind. He knew what command’s answer would be – what it always was, when they’d put a unit in an impossible situation. Figure it out.

  He sighed. That’s what he’d have to do, then: figure it out.

  Grel tried to be heard over the din. His flat was packed with bodies. They’d long since run out of seats, and now the visitors stood where they could find standing room. “Alright,” he said, “the meeting is now called to order.”

  A hush ran through the crowd, and those whose side conversations didn’t wind up were subjected to a hiss of disapprobation from their neighbors.

  “Our first order of business: financials.”

  Here, a short, round figure of a man stood. This was the CWCT district’s treasurer, Giya Enden. “Good evening,” he said. “You all will have seen the report. Dues are steady, though we’ve had a few hardship waivers come in this past month. Still, we should be able to meet our obligations.

  “Which brings me to a bit of good news. Kay Delten found employment with the City’s beautification task force, so her last relief check was this week.”

  A murmur of approval sounded. Kay was one of the carters’ widows, who lost her husband during the riots earlier that year. With three young mouths to feed and work opportunities scarce, the CWCT relief checks were all that had kept the Delten family from starvation.

  “So we’ll have a little more in the treasury, though hopefully we won’t need it.”

  Grel nodded. The CWCT’s dues were paid as a kind of insurance policy. When the carters had tried to form their guild, Protectors had been sent in. Four men died, and another was left paralyzed. Kay’s husband was one of the dead. It was good to have money to spend if it was needed, but every member of the CWCT prayed that they’d never have to use a copper retka.

  The financial report wrapped up, and they moved to other business. “So, you all know that tomorrow’s the day. We’ll be meeting at the market square at thirteenth bell. Remember to bring your signs.”

  Excited murmuring and nodding heads met this. “I’ve had mine ready for two weeks now,” someone called from the kitchen.

  Grel grinned. “Of course you have, Deb. You’re indefatigable.”

  “I’ve got extras, too, in case anyone needs one.”

  A few refrains of “I do” and “I could take one” sounded.

  “Excellent,” he said. “So the important thing is, no matter what, stay calm. We’re going to be in the open, with witnesses all around us – so there won’t be a repeat of the Carter’s Guild business.” Again, his words elicited knowing nods. The Carter’s Guild raid had happened in the early morning hours, when the guild was setting up for the day. There were few people around, and no one but guild members to challenge the Protectors’ claims that they’d struck the first blow, that they’d incited the riot.

  It was insanity, of course. Why anyone would believe that a bunch of merchants would pick a fight with heavily armed officers was beyond comprehension. Why anyone would accept that heavily armed officers had been deployed to a gathering of merchants in the first-place if they were not planning to cause chaos beggared belief. But people believed what they were told, and with no one but the dead and accused to tell a different story, the Protectors had gotten away with it.

  It wouldn’t be the same tomorrow. They’d be in the open, surrounded by witnesses, exercising their right to speech and assembly.

  “There will be ugliness – people will try to provoke, to incite, something. Remember: no matter what they do, we don’t rise to the bait.”

  Agreement grew stronger. “The public needs to see that, whatever our opponents may say about us, we’re not anarchists. We’re not here to destroy. We’re here to build – a better world, for all Tribari.”

  “Hear, hear,” someone called.

  The meeting moved on. Now and then, Grel glanced up to search the crowd for Nik, but she was nowhere to be seen. Work, then, must have kept her again, he concluded. It was too bad. It was a good meeting, with enough energy to reanimate the dead.

  Once it wrapped up, some of the attendees drifted out, and the space grew less congested. Others remained, though, chatting in groups, or pulling him aside for a side conversation. “I had an idea about a letter campaign.”

  Or, “What do you think of staging a protest outside the capitol itself?”

  And, “Have you heard anything from Eva? I haven’t. That’s two meetings she’s missed now.”

  When Franz caught his elbow, he smiled. “Franz! I didn’t see you come in. How are you?”

  Franz was an old friend. They’d known each other since high school, and they’d gone into organizing together. The other man had fallen out of his active circle of volunteers a score of months back, when his first child, Franz Junior, was born. But they’d remained good friends. “I was late,” he said. “And I’m well. How are you?”

  “Good, good. And how’s the wife and kids?”

  Franz smiled. “Excellent.” Then, he threw a glance around the room. “But where’s Nik at?”

  “Oh, she must have had to work late. They’ve been making her work overtime a lot these days. Unpaid, of course.”

  Franz, though, frowned, his yellow eyes turning pale with suspicion. “You sure, Grel?”

  “Of course I’m sure.” He frowned in turn. “What are you talking about?”

  Franz threw another glance around them, and when he was assured they were alone, he lowered his voice. “I saw Nik earlier, in town. She wasn’t working, Grel. And she wasn’t alone either.”

  He blinked. “What?”

  “She was with a man, older, rich as a contributor. I didn’t get a good look at him, but he was dressed to the nine’s in silver and gold. And I saw her plain enough.” Franz fidgeted in place. “I’m sorry, Grel. But you should know: he had his arm around her.”

  His mind raced. “It was probably her father,” he decided. It was the only thing that made sense.

  “I thought they didn’t talk anymore?”

  “They don’t.”

  Franz spread his hands, as if the conclusion he’d reached followed so naturally that Grel should see it too.


  “I mean, they don’t often. But something might have come up. If her mother’s sick, or her brother’s…”

  Franz nodded. “Alright, I get you. I hope that’s it. But…I thought you should know.”

  Grel nodded too. “Of course. Thank you.”

  His friend put a hand on his shoulder, and said, “Well, I should head out. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Grel seemed in a kind of haze as the rest of the evening passed. He couldn’t shake Franz’s words, or the suspicion in his eyes. He knew it was ridiculous, of course. Nik loved him, and he trusted her completely.

  There was nothing suspicious about her visitor. It had to be Luk Aldir.

  And yet, his mind would argue, how many times had Luk visited his daughter since they’d been married?

  None.

  It was with effort that Grel got through the rest of the evening’s pleasantries. When Nik did arrive, as the last stragglers were making their goodbyes, he could barely contain his impatience for them to be gone. There was an energy in her step he hadn’t seen in awhile, a liveliness to her gaze and her conversation that had slowly faded these last weeks. He was thrilled to see, and yet terrified too.

  Still, when they did leave, and he was alone with her, he found himself unsure of what to say. She greeted him with a warm kiss. He tried to return it with an equal warmth, but found his manner somewhat reserved. “How was your day?” he asked in as casual a tone as he could manage.

  She shook her head. “Busy. Crazy. How was yours?”

  “Good,” he said. “They must have needed you to stay on again?”

  She turned, ostensibly to pick up a crumpled pamphlet someone had dropping, asking, “How was the meeting? I’m sorry I missed it.”

  His heart sank at her evasion. “It was good. We talked about the rally tomorrow.” He swallowed. “Nik?”

  She glanced up at him now, at the seriousness in his tone.

  “Is everything okay?”

  She seemed surprised by the question. “Of course. Why?”

  He shook his head. “I just…you were gone so long, again.”

  She blinked, and then glanced down to study the pamphlet in her hand. Then, she sighed. “Grel, I…I wasn’t going to tell you. Not before your rally.”

  He felt the bile rise in his throat. Oh gods. He was losing her. He nearly bowed under the weight of that realization.

  “But the thing is…well…” She was fidgeting. “Grel, don’t be angry, but…”

  “I know,” he said simply.

  She surveyed him with wide eyes. “You do?”

  “I’m not a complete fool, Nik.” He was, of course. He hadn’t seen this coming. He’d guessed something wasn’t right when she’d missed her train yesterday. But who knew how long this had been going on? Not him. Gods, not him. He didn’t know anything, it seemed. He’d still be in the dark, if not for Franz. But she didn’t need to know that. He might as well retain a shred of his pride. “I know you weren’t working today.”

  Pain crossed her face. “Please, Grel,” she said, “let me explain.”

  “Explain?” He tried not to choke on the word. “How long has this been going on? Did you think I wouldn’t know?”

  “It’s complicated.”

  “Complicated? Oh Nik.” His heart seemed to be breaking to pieces in his chest, and she was rolling out platitudes.

  “I know it’s not easy after everything,” she said. “But he’s still my father, Grel. And I still love him.”

  It was his turn to stare in stupefaction. “What?”

  “He wants to reconcile. I know you don’t trust him.” She was speaking quickly, as if to stem his protests, “But, love, I’m begging you, give him a chance, please. I believe him. I really do.”

  Franz’s suspicions and his own thoughts had taken him to such a dark place that he was struggling to keep up. “Reconcile?”

  She nodded. “Because of the baby, love.”

  Chapter Eight

  A clap of thunder sounding in his ears wouldn’t have astonished Grel more than those words. “The baby? What baby?”

  “Ours.” Nik seemed confused. “I thought you said you knew?”

  “I…I knew about you and Luk,” he said, stretching the truth a little beyond its limits. “But, Nik, what do you mean ‘our baby’?”

  She flushed, then laughed. “Well, I guess the cat’s out of the bag.”

  “You mean…you’re pregnant?”

  She nodded. “Yes.”

  He was thunderstruck again. “You’re pregnant?”

  She smiled. “Yes.”

  “Oh my gods, Nik. We’re going to have a baby?”

  “If you want it, yes.”

  He wrapped her in a hug, burying his face into her shoulder. He almost sobbed with sheer relief and pleasure. “Oh my gods, Nik. A baby.”

  She pulled back to scrutinize his features. “Are you mad?”

  “Mad?” He was reeling from the revelation, but his heart danced with joy. “Nik, I couldn’t be happier.”

  She smiled again. “So you want to keep it, then?”

  “Keep it? Of course.” Then, he considered. He remembered that he was not working, that she was their sole breadwinner. “As long as you do, I mean.”

  “I do, Grel. I really do.” She ran her fingers down his cheek. “But I know how you feel about having kids, too. And if it’s too much for you, we won’t.”

  He shook his head adamantly. “No, love. I want it.” He remembered the things he’d said, that very morning in fact. They seemed the distant memory of another man when faced with the prospect of a child of his own, of Nik’s, of a family of their own. “I know I’m not working, but I’ll take care of him. Or her. And I’ll keep looking for work. Maybe in a few months, people will have forgotten the Carters’ guild.”

  “Love, will you talk to my father?”

  “Your father?” He tried to keep the wariness out of his tone. “What about?”

  “About a job. He means it, Grel. He wants to help.”

  The idea of begging to Nik’s father, who had turned his back on her all these months, didn’t sit well. But she was so earnest in her entreaty that he paused. “Alright,” he said. “I’ll talk to him.” What was his pride, after all? He had a family to support, now.

  She kissed him, fiercely this time. “Thank you.”

  He smiled, pulling her close to him. “That’s what you were thinking about, last night? When you were on your walk. The baby?”

  She grinned. “I can’t keep secrets from you, can I?”

  He laughed, more from embarrassment at just how oblivious and wrongheaded he’d been than anything else. But he said aloud, “Of course not.”

  Grel rose early the next morning, while Nik was still sleeping, to prepare breakfast. She came out a few minutes later, yawning. “Are you cooking, love? That smells delicious.”

  He set out a plate of toasted eggs, a jellied muffin and the last of the marbled cheese. “Only the best for my Nik.”

  She grinned. “You’ll fatten me up, if you feed me like that.”

  He sat beside her, watching her eat for a minute. “After the march today, I think I’ll call your father.”

  She took his hand and squeezed it. “Thank you, Grel. I know…well, I know it’s not easy.”

  He brought her hand to his mouth, kissing it. “I’d move the daystar itself for you, Nik. I think I can survive working for your dad.”

  Her grin returned. “So you say. But we’ll see. He’s every bit as stubborn as me, you know.”

  “And not half so beautiful,” he grinned in turn.

  She laughed. “Oh gods.”

  “Still, I think I’ll manage.”

  “Me too.” She smiled. “I love you, Grel.”

  He leaned over the table to kiss her. “I love you too, Nik.”

  The morning moved far too quickly, and before he knew it, it was time for her to go. It was strange. He’d spent months anticipating the day’s march, and yet he could bar
ely concentrate as he gathered his signs and bullhorn, as he tried to prep what he’d say or reexamine their route for the day.

  All he could think of was Nik, and the son or daughter they’d have soon. All he could plan was what he’d say to Luk Aldir, and what the other man might say to him. He had no illusions that they’d ever be on good terms. But if her father would give him the opportunity to earn a wage that would support Nik and their child, well, he’d put up with just about anything.

  Still, he packed up his gear and set his steps toward the marketplace to join his colleagues. He thought with a measure of sadness that it might be one of his last marches with them. Nik had mentioned her father’s conditions. He was surprised, in truth, they were as lenient as they were. Aldir didn’t support the cause. He was a Grand Contributor, after all. How could he?

  But if he meant it, if he meant that Grel could still do the work in a less public fashion, well, it was a compromise he could live with. He’d miss the public work, though, the chance to engage face-to-face, the opportunity to share his thoughts openly with other Tribari.

  He was one of the first to reach the designated meeting point: a fountain on the far end of the market district. For a few minutes, he entertained the fear that his fellow protestors had gotten cold feet, and were bailing on him. But, one by one, they began to trickle over.

  Deb was there, extra signs in tow as promised. Franz followed a few minutes later. “Grel,” he said, surveying him appraisingly.

  He laughed at his friend’s expression. He couldn’t pretend he didn’t know what was running through the other man’s mind. “Franz,” he said, “I have news. Nik and I, we’re going to have a baby.”

  Franz blinked. “Really? Then…?”

  “That was Luk,” he said, answering the question the other man hesitated to pose. “Nik was telling him that he’s going to be a grandfather.”

  He laughed now, too. “That’s great, Grel. All of it.”

  Anything further would have to wait, though. The crowd was swelling, and passersby were beginning to take note. Curiosity was the overwhelming sentiment which with they were met, but it was mixed with others. Some curled up their lips and turned up their noses as they passed by. Others flashed a grin or raised a fist as discreetly as possible in solidarity.