The Tribari Freedom Chronicles Boxset

by Rachel Ford

  “Hey,” she said in a minute, alarmed by how easily she found herself melting into his arms, “we should probably take that walk.”

  “Oh.” He kissed her again. “Right.”

  She resisted the urge to stay put, and opened her door. It was a chilly day, overcast with the promise of showers later on. She shivered as she stepped into it, but the cool, crisp air did something to drive away the headiness she felt.

  He moved close to her, and looked like he was thinking of wrapping an arm around her shoulders. She stepped onto the path quickly. Her head was a mass of confusion, and she needed to think. But she had the feeling that his arm around her would doom any efforts to clear her mind.

  “Ari?”

  “Yes?” She tried to sound nonchalant.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yes. Just…I’m not sure. Maybe…” She paused on the path, turning to face him. “Maybe we’re moving too fast, Tig.”

  He nodded, flashing a chagrined smile. “Sorry.”

  “No, it’s-it’s not just you.” She tried to find the words to convey what she was feeling without sounding like an imbecile. She was a little out of practice in this kind of thing. “I…I like you.”

  “I like you too.”

  She smiled, the depth of the greens in his eyes belying the casual way he said it. She supposed her own were probably giving her away, too. “I like you a lot, Tig.”

  “Well, I like you a lot too.” He was grinning again.

  Gods, that smile. She shook her head to push the thought aside. “I just – I don’t want us to get ahead of ourselves.”

  “Alright,” he agreed. “Fair enough.”

  “So…just walking, then?”

  He nodded solemnly. “If you say so. Can I at least hold you, as we walk, I mean?”

  She considered. Physical contact with him had undone her reserve rather more quickly than she’d intended, and she wanted to keep her senses. The fact was, whatever she felt for Tig, she didn’t really know him. And she needed to get to know him before she let herself feel too much. Still, she extended her hand. That’ll be safe.

  “Your hand?” He stared at it skeptically, then shrugged. “Well, beggars can’t be choosers.”

  She laughed as he took it. “That’s the first thing you learn in politics, you know: the art of a decent compromise.”

  “I’m no politician,” he quipped. “I’m an honest thief.”

  She laughed again, nudging him. “You’re not a thief anymore. And that’s a very cynical attitude, Mister Orson.”

  “Well, present company excluded, it’s also the truth.”

  “Bollocks.”

  “So you do swear,” he grinned.

  “Only when provoked.”

  He leaned into her arm. “Well, Governor, I look forward to provoking you a lot more as we get to know each other better.”

  She ignored the foolish way her stomach fluttered at the allusions to their future, and for a few minutes they walked in silence. She’d chosen a makeshift path along a long-dry riverbed, a ways outside of the settlement. Trapper’s wasn’t a beautiful planet, but it did have a kind of wild majesty here and there. Spots like these were favorites for solitude seekers and young lovers.

  She glanced at Tig and the lines of age starting to erase the traces of his youth, and thought of the seasoned look that was taking hold of her own features these days. And maybe old lovers, too. She cleared her throat. “A few months back, when I was with the volunteer fire department, this place burned down. Completely burned, I mean: nothing left after the fire.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. There were a lot of trees here. Old ones: beautiful, beautiful trees, going back to the colony’s founding.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “It was sad,” she nodded. “This was a popular spot. People would picnic here and artists would paint what they thought it might have looked like, back when there were rivers on Trapper’s. Now it’s not quite as popular. All the trees are new. There’s some scrub growth, but there’s no shade trees.”

  “Still, you managed to keep it from spreading.”

  “Yes. We weren’t entirely sure we would be able to for a while. But we did.”

  “You saved the settlement, then.” He was smiling appreciatively at her. “Even then, you were saving this place.”

  “I can hardly take credit for that. It wasn’t like I was alone.”

  He squeezed her hand, and for awhile longer they walked in silence. The day was cool, and now and then a breeze would kick in. “It feels like rain,” she observed.

  “Does it?”

  “You don’t think so?”

  He shrugged. “I have no idea. It’s rained…what? Twice since I’ve been on planet? The only rain we ever got on Zeta was frozen. And Theta is different. It’s cold, but dry. You don’t see much rain there.”

  She nodded. “On Trapper’s, you can kind of feel it in the air.” She stopped for a moment to close her eyes and breathe in a lungful of afternoon air. “There’s a kind of…I don’t know…almost charged feeling to it.”

  When she opened her eyes, he was smiling at her. “I don’t know about rain, Ari. But there’s definitely a charge in the air.”

  Nees flushed a little. “I’m serious. Once you live here for a while…”

  She trailed off as he moved closer, saying, “So am I.”

  “Tig, I thought…” He was very close, now, and she found the words slipping away.

  “Yes?” he prodded.

  “I…”

  He leaned in to kiss her again, his eyes an amorous amber. He paused, though, before their lips met. “Can I kiss you again, Ari?”

  She’d resolved that there would be no more kissing today. She’d resolved that they’d approach this maturely, carefully, like the seasoned adults they were. She’d resolved so many things. And now…now, she leaned in, closing the distance between them, bringing her lips to his.

  She felt an arm wrap around her back, felt him draw her close to him. He was right. There was a charge in the air. She felt it shoot through her, from her head to her toes. Her whole body seemed jolted into a new and heightened awareness.

  Nees had always been too practical for torrid affairs or whirlwind romances. But that was then. That was before she met this man, before she’d let him touch her. And now?

  Now, she leaned into his kiss, leaned into him. “Tig,” she whispered, breaking after a long moment, “maybe we should head back to my place.”

  “I don’t want to let you go, Ari.”

  Shyly, she turned soft amber eyes to him. “I don’t mean to let me go.”

  The irises of his own eyes deepened in hue. “Oh. You mean…?”

  She wrapped an arm around him, emboldened by the desire in his gaze. “If that’s what you want.”

  “If that’s what I want, eh?” he smiled

  “That’s right.” She traced her hand down his back, and leaned close to his ear, whispering, “Because that’s what I want.”

  She felt his entire body tense at the words, and then shudder. “Tig?” She drew back to look at him, her hands still wrapped around his waist and back. His face was suddenly gray, his eyes a wide and frightened blue. She felt her pulse accelerate, and cast a glance around them. She half expected to see imperial fighters, or wild animals lurking along the way.

  But they were alone. “Tig? What’s wrong?”

  He blinked. “Nothing.” His voice was flat and distant.

  She brought a hand to his cheek, caressing it with her thumb. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” he repeated, recoiling, almost, from her touch. “I’m sorry…”

  She stared, stupefied, for a moment. “I don’t understand, Tig. What’s going on? Did – did I do something?”

  He shook his head. “No. It’s-it’s not you. I-this was a mistake, Ari. A mistake.”

  He was still shaking his head, and she stepped toward him. But he withdrew again. “What is it? If I did something,
tell me. Please.”

  “You didn’t. Only…this was a mistake.” He threw a wild-eyed glance around them. “I need to go.”

  “Go?” Nees’ astonishment grew by the moment. The sudden reversal, the inexplicable transition from seeming to crave her touch to recoiling from it in a split second’s time…her head reeled. “Tig, talk to me. What did I do?”

  “I need to go, Ari,” he said, and his tone sounded almost desperate.

  “Alright,” she nodded. “Alright, we’ll go.”

  He walked quickly and in silence. There was no hand holding or affectionate glances this time. The amorous look had gone out of his eyes altogether, replaced with an inexplicable blue. Nees couldn’t begin to comprehend what had changed. Had she moved too quickly? Had the suggestion to go back to her place frightened him somehow?

  She’d seen his eyes, though, glowing with the same desire she felt. She hadn’t misread that.

  Had he changed his mind? Had he perhaps listened to all the cautions she ignored?

  The sky was a little grayer by time they reached the car, and the wind had picked up. “I’ll drop you off at your place,” Nees said, doing her level best to keep the wonder and hurt out of her tone.

  He glanced up at her, and for the briefest moment, their eyes met. Then, he looked away. “No. I’ll…I’ll walk.”

  “Walk? But it’s going to rain.”

  He shook his head. “It’s fine.”

  “Please,” she said, “if I did something to offend you, I’m sorry. Let me at least drive you home. Please, Tig.”

  But he would not be persuaded, and before Nees knew what was happening, he’d already set off down the road, back toward the settlement.

  Stunned and utterly at a loss for an explanation, she sat for a space, her back to the car. She stared into the browns and greens of the area, watching the scrub growth whip in the new winds.

  She was shocked. She was confused. Hell, she was embarrassed. But more than anything, she hurt. And not a little, either. She hurt with a deep, aching pain – a pain so deep, it stunned her.

  She barely knew Tig. Obviously, she knew him even less than she’d thought. So how in the gods’ names could his rejection hurt this damned bad?

  She started as a cold droplet of rainwater splashed against her cheek. The wind had picked up even more, and a distant rumble of thunder rolled across the horizon. The day had gone dark, and she wondered how long she’d been sitting there, lost to her own thoughts.

  Another drop hit her, and then another. She didn’t want to head back. She didn’t want to face the governor’s mansion after today – after she’d made such an imbecile of herself, and still hadn’t figured out how.

  But there was a storm brewing, and – no matter how much of a fool her heart might make of her – Governor Nees was still a practical woman. Trapper’s Colony was not the planet to get caught in a storm.

  So she returned to her vehicle, and headed back to the settlement. And for a time, the storm brewing outside pushed away thoughts of the storm of confusion inside.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “How are we coming on the engines?”

  “Power’s back in three and five. We’re at about eighty-five percent capacity, sir.”

  “Good. Kerel, are you ready?”

  “Yessir.”

  “Dagir, you in position?”

  “Yessir, standing by.”

  Elgin nodded slowly, watching the incoming starships. They had pulled apart, with the central ship still approaching on a direct intercept course, but one drawing up and another dropping below to surround the Supernova.

  “They’re launching missiles, sir.”

  “Now.”

  Kerel didn’t speak. She didn’t even nod an acknowledgment. Her brow knit, her eyes fixed on the screen, she just worked.

  The Supernova shot forward, all spare power diverted to that leap. Elgin gritted his teeth against the acceleration. And then they were there, one ship sandwiched between the three.

  “I have visual confirmation: the lead ship is the TS-Jala,” one of his officers called.

  Elgin registered the words. He knew the Jala’s captain, Ria Denar. She was old school, competent and one hundred percent by the book. She was a good person, too.

  He wished he could say otherwise. He wished she was another Lenksha. It would be easy to fire on Lenksha. But she wasn’t, nor were all the souls onboard the Jala.

  “Do it,” he said, as much for his own affirmation as anything. Kerel had her orders. Dagir had his. But this was his call, not theirs. It was his decision, not theirs. It would be his guilt.

  Not theirs.

  “Yessir.”

  The whine of dozens of missiles leaving their ports sounded all at once.

  “Again!”

  He didn’t need to give the order. His crew was already on it, and the second barrage was on its way before he’d finished speaking.

  Then the explosions started. The Supernova rocked, her dampening thrusters correcting for the first hits. Then she bucked. The reports started to roll in.

  “Breech in bay eight.”

  “Casualties on deck three.”

  “Engine three is down.”

  His eyes, though, were glued to the view screens and the space beyond his ship. It was chaos. Flashes of light, the roar of munitions ripping into the Supernova, explosions beyond his ship: it all happened at once, all around him.

  This was the end. He knew that. He only hoped it was enough of an end to take the other ships out too. They’d flown into the center of the trio, launching everything in their arsenal at the ships around them – and drawing the fire of everything that their attackers had already launched.

  It was pandemonium. One by one, his feeds darkened as cameras were taken out. The ship shuddered and screamed all around him. The intercom system sounded again and again, dozens of voices and dozens of messages coming in.

  Elgin was tossed against his safety restraints, like a leaf in a hurricane, turned this way and that. Still, he managed to keep his eyes on the portal.

  He saw the Jala go down, a missile making it through the shielding and into one of the central decks. The ensuing explosion split the old starship hull to hull.

  That was a win, but, godsdammit, victory felt a lot like defeat.

  The ship overhead was next. It was a smaller class than the Supernova, and not meant to be in the thick of explosions like these. A vicious series of detonations ripped through it. She didn’t disintegrate, like the Jala did, but her lights went out across all decks, and she spun out wildly into the void of space.

  “We lost decks eight and nine,” a voice on the comms declared.

  “Bays three and four depressurizing.”

  “Remaining enemy vessel is launching missiles. Brace for impact in five; four; three; two…”

  The Supernova shuddered, and the lights on the bridge flickered. Elgin took in a long breath. He had the feeling it would be one of his last.

  Then, to a chorus of explosions, the deck went dark. He waited for the end. Time seemed to stand still. The sounds of the bridge, the catching breath of his fellow officers, the shared fear of all the men and women who had chosen to die alongside him today, to give Dagir and his squadron the time they needed to get away, filled his mind.

  He knew the deaths that awaited them. Everyone who took to the skies knew how it might all end: in fire or frost, burnt up in the ship or frozen in the void.

  It was a more merciful end than the ones those ancient sailors on the earliest Tribari home world had known, those maritime captains who lost sea battles. There would be no prolonged drowning, no slow sinking to the bottom of an inky black sea.

  It would be over quickly. One minute: that’s how long a Tribari could survive in the murky vacuum of space. And most didn’t even make it that long before cold or asphyxiation took them.

  He could endure a minute. “For the Empire,” he said into the darkness.

  A dozen voices all around hi
m, some trembling and some steady, repeated, “For the Empire.”

  For the Empire. Godspeed, Dagir.

  Nikia Idan’s brow knit as she listened. Captain Elgin had vanished mid-testimony – but not before some kind of explosion registered.

  “I’m sorry,” the tech who had been dispatched declared. “But I can’t get him back. I can’t raise the ship. It’s nothing on our end.”

  “Mercer,” Presider Grik called, “what are you seeing?”

  Captain Mercer of the TS-Seven shook his head, the grays of his projected form seeming a little grimmer. “Nothing, Presider. It looks like they hit a minefield. The ship started transmitting a preliminary damage report in the first few tenths of a second after the explosion. But after that: nothing.”

  “Are you saying,” she asked, fighting to articulate the thought, “that the Supernova is…lost?”

  Mercer’s holographic head bobbed. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but…it’s looking that way.”

  Nikia took her seat, nodding numbly. As much as she was credited with the revolution that had freed the Tribari people, Captain Elgin had been there at every step of the way. It had been his call to defy orders, to protect the citizens marching in the capitol – rather than firing on them as high command had directed. It had been his call to release the data files, the endless proofs of Velk and his parliament’s corruption, that galvanized the people. Elgin had spearheaded the early relief efforts, ensuring that colonies like Theta survived the first few weeks of independence.

  And now, he was dead. Now, Captain Drake Elgin was dead.

  “Do we know the source of the mines?” someone asked.

  “No sir. Presumably, they were planted by the loyalists. But confirmation will have to wait until we can deploy ships for further investigation.”

  “We need to know what we’re dealing with,” Presider Grik decided. “As soon as possible.”

  “And if there are any survivors from the Supernova, they might not have long. Requesting permission to deploy ships to their last known coordinates, sir?”