Inalienable: Book 7 of the Starstruck saga

by S E Anderson

  “The Alliance doesn’t need your help!”

  “Tell that to the people who died tonight. To the people who are sitting in this room and just want to get out alive.” I was starting to get vertigo from standing on my soapbox. “Plus, we’ve had to step in more times than you know to fix Alliance cock-ups. Remember that accident at the food processing plant, pff, must be about three decades years ago?”

  “How could we forget?”

  “Well, aren’t you glad your entire government didn’t fall prey to a deadly outbreak of that flesh-eating bacteria?”

  “They never—”

  “Exactly. We notified the head of production and the head of inspection, but they just shrugged it off. Ignored us.”

  “That’s what happens when you place a reptilian child-hire on your food production line,” Blayde added. “They carry some diseases that you just aren’t prepared to deal with.”

  “Nobody died that day. All the bad food just … went down the wrong shoot and was incinerated. Maybe you were a little behind on your quota. And maybe the inspector never let you see the proof of the disaster we averted to keep his own butt out of the fire. So, you and the Alliance blame us for the entire thing and the death of at least thirty other workers who had nothing to do with the situation. Just to make us look like the bad guys instead of them.”

  “I never did that!” The minister shook his head in disgust, then caught himself. “I’m in charge of the transport systems. I had no hand in that.”

  “We never said you did,” said Blayde. “But the Alliance has never been kind to us.”

  “So, why help us at all? What possible reason do you have for going to all this trouble and enduring the ridicule?”

  Blayde scoffed, rubbing her baby bump. “You think this is ridicule?”

  I only shrugged. “Well, once you’ve done everything and anything there is to do in the universe, there really isn’t much else left, is there? Maybe making the universe a little bit better for the people who live in it is the only thing worth doing if you have an eternity at hand.”

  “That or take it over,” said the minister.

  “Maybe we’ll do that next,” said Blayde. “Look, I know we need this guy, but can I hand him over to the coats? You two are getting too chatty, and we have a party to save.”

  “The coats!” I said, smacking my freshly minted head.

  “What, the coats?” asked Blayde.

  “Have you seen how many there are?”

  Blayde glanced up, down, around. “Yes. There are a lot. Good on you for counting.”

  “Gen,” I said, turning to the girl, who lit up as I spoke to her. “How much do you know about coats?”

  “Everything.” She beamed.

  “Not just the fashion, right? Their breeding and defenses?”

  Blayde let out a sound like a bark masquerading as a laugh. “You can’t be serious.”

  “Here’s the plan,” I said, rubbing my hands together. Derzan, it felt good to have a plan. “That door I just tried to blow, it’s no longer got explosives—I took care of that—so it’s probably heavily guarded. I’ll take care of those guards while Blayde leads you out of here. I’m sure she can laser her way out of here.”

  “Laser is not a verb,” she said. “And the coats …”

  “They’re the distraction. Or I should say, we’re the distraction.”

  I took off my shoes, which were surprisingly still intact; long heels were sturdier than one might imagine from their flimsy shape. I tossed one in my hand gently, gauging its weight.

  “Gen,” I said, dropping my voice, “which of the coats will be the most territorial?”

  “The most expensive put up the biggest fight,” she said, scanning the racks. “Probably last year’s Harbena, spring collection, the eight-arm-plus model. That one there.”

  She pointed at one a few rows up, almost near the ceiling. Easy peasy.

  “Everyone, lie flat on the floor. Keep your hands behind your heads, and don’t move an inch until Blayde says the word. You got that?”

  I stood up taller as they all slid onto the floor, groggily filling up the few square meters of floor space. I had to back up and sit on the desk for there to be enough space.

  “Now don’t. Move. An inch.”

  The shoe sailed through the air, my aim true, smacking the Harbena square in the thorax pocket. The coat reared, swinging on its hanger, freeing itself from its binds and plummeting toward the floor. The eight sleeves whipped through the air as it fell, dragging the others down with it.

  Quite literally kicking and screaming.

  I had severely underestimated the numbers of coats on the racks. Suddenly, a flock of angry, territorial coats with nothing to lose were soaring toward me, hundreds strong. Simultaneously the exact thing I was hoping to accomplish and the most terrifying sight my eyes had seen … at least in the past hour, I think. So, I did what I did best: I spun around and took off running.

  I sprinted down the hallway toward the door I had attempted to blow, a thunder of coats behind me, furiously flapping their sleeves and pressing antigravity units as they rushed me. I pushed myself harder, bare feet pounding on the marble, trying not to slip in the mess of abandoned fluids that coated the tile and stone.

  It would have all gone down smoothly if I hadn’t collided face-first with Kork before I even reached the door.

  “Frash!” he shouted, as we tumbled down together, a tangle of weapons and limbs. None of his were broken from what I could tell. Hells, he looked pristine in his uniform, like he always did on the screen.

  I jumped to my feet before touching the floor, leaving him to finish collapsing on his own, only to find wide-eyed Sekai by my side. Note that she does have enormous eyes, but now she was more wide-eyed than usual, and with a stampede of coats following me, I had no choice but to slam into her, too, knocking her to the floor in a flurry of confused grunts.

  The coats flew over us, low-dragging sleeves running over our tangle of limbs, brushing by and spinning down the hallway, ready to decimate anything in their path. I rolled off Sekai, again jumping to my feet once the flock had passed, staring down the chandeliered corridor in hopes the beasties reached their goal.

  Only they didn’t.

  Movement in the main ballroom must have drawn their attention because they left the corridor suddenly, hundreds if not thousands of coats spilling into the massive hall at once. By the sounds of the screams, they were wreaking quite the havoc of their own.

  “Zander?” asked Kork, panting heavily. “What are you doing here?”

  “Same old, same old,” I replied, reaching out a hand to help drag him up to his feet.

  “Saving the day?”

  “Hardly.”

  “What were those?” asked Sekai. “Please don’t tell me you’ve ruined my coat. I had mine grown in my mother’s lake; it’s priceless.”

  Blayde came to a stop behind me, a line of exhausted survivors behind her. More than I had left her with, believe it or not. There had to be a dozen of us in the hallway now.

  “So much for a distraction,” she snapped. “Now we’re sitting ducks.”

  “I hate to say this.”

  “Then don’t say it.”

  “You agree?”

  “It has to be done, doesn’t it? Time is of the essence, and we’re just blabbing.” She pulled out her laser, taking a heavy breath. “Let’s end this.”

  I turned to Kork. “You protect them, all right? Try to keep them looking at the coats. Don’t let them see.”

  I turned off my mind and ran.

  The act of killing is not art, no matter what many of the teachers I’ve had over my many lifetimes have said over and over again. Art creates beauty, meaning. Killing is destruction and death. Just because it has to be done for the greater good doesn’t mean there’s any pride to be had in the act itself.

  Saving a life is heroic. Taking one is always a loss for the universe.

  So, when I jumped behind
the guard, snapped his neck, and took his rifle, it didn’t bring me relief.

  When I aimed the rifle and shot off another rebel in the stomach, I didn’t count it as a victory.

  Blayde and I moved in synch, our many lifetimes of training and experience taking over our bodies as we flowed through the motions of bringing death to those who revel in killing. The men kept coming, bullets ripping through me as I jumped and took them down. It was disgustingly easy.

  An arm wrapped around my neck, attempting to twist, but I flung him over my shoulder, launching him as far as I could. Jump, and I was the one behind him. We had rejected restraint. We didn’t need to give these men a fighting chance, not when we knew what they would do with it. Punches land harder when you don’t hold yourself back. Necks break and bones snap when lives are on the line. We did the job in front of us, but there was no glory in it for anyone.

  We flowed down the corridor, each jump bringing us closer to freeing the survivors of this carnage. The door was clear now, but we couldn’t stop, not until we knew the threat was gone, not when there were still rebels on the loose.

  “Zander,” came a voice, soft and distant.

  The voice brought me back into myself. I looked up, away from the carnage at my feet, but the voice was too low to be coming from the corridor. Could I have imagined it? Absolutely.

  “Hey, Zander! You up for negotiations?”

  I definitely hadn’t imagined that. Blayde looked up at me, eyes wide. She wiped the spray from her face.

  “It could be a trap,” she said, as she sliced the life from the guard at her feet.

  “You always say that,” I replied. “You know what to do if it is.”

  And with that, I turned toward the grand hall, carving a path of death toward the voice of my beloved.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Next time I’m in a rebellion I’ll read up more on the subject beforehand

  Sally

  People are bound to notice a zombie creeping around a catwalk in her massive bloody gown. There wasn’t exactly a lot of places to hide. I’m proud I lasted a few minutes before getting caught, but I won’t tell you exactly how many because it’s still embarrassing.

  “Look who we found sneaking around the sentry walk.”

  The rebel led me into the small temporary office, pushing me with the butt of his gun. I kept my hands in the air, but having just returned from the dead didn’t give the opposition any confidence. My makeshift knife was tied to my ankle with the extra ribbon from the shoe, still undetected. So far, I didn’t need it.

  “What the three suns?” their leader stammered, pushing himself up to stand in shock as I was led in. “She was dead! You all saw that, right? I shot her!”

  “Obviously not well enough since she’s alive,” my captor pointed out. A man who could talk back, suggested he was somewhat high up in whatever organization this was.

  “Unless I’m her twin?” These conversations over my death had become tiresome and boring to me at this point.

  He relaxed a little. “True. She must have had a twin.”

  “Psych! No, I’m the girl you shot, but I’m still trying to wrap my head around the fact you immediately jumped to me rising from the dead before making any other guesses first. It’s a little weird.”

  “I saw her brains, you know.” The man behind the leader stared at me, wide-eyed. He poked his fingers under his chin, reenacting my death, using a hand to indicate my brain splattering out behind on the wall.

  “Can you do that as an interpretive dance? It could do with a little more pizazz.” I shook my head. “Come on, grow up. There’s a lot in the universe you don’t know about.”

  “It could be a robot!” someone pointed out.

  “Um, my preferred pronoun is she, not it. You could have had the decency to ask,” I snapped.

  “I checked her pulse; she was dead. Maybe an Alliance plant? Check her again!” the rebel leader ordered.

  “Why does everyone think I’m some kind of plant?” I asked. “Not even the other hostages trust me. This is getting a little frustrating.”

  One of the men grabbed my arm, holding it in place as he felt around my wrist. “No pulse,” he muttered. Then he stabbed a knife through it.

  “Hey! What’s your problem?” I ripped my hand back. “Of course, I’m alive. I’m living and breathing, aren’t I?”

  “It’s all blood and bones and muscles. She’s alive,” he pointed out. “But with no pulse.”

  “Of course I don’t have a pulse, not with people constantly getting slicey with my arms!”

  “But how?” Realization crept across the leader’s face. “Ah, you’re like them.”

  He didn’t need to continue. We all knew what he meant. I nodded.

  “Who are you?” I asked.

  “Barshook. Leader of the Anti-Alliance Alliance.”

  “Seriously?” I laughed, sitting on the chair in front of his desk, pulling the knife out of its hiding place. They moved to take it from me, but I stared them down until they backed off.

  “Guys, you’ll never get taken seriously with a name like that. Try something like The New Order or something along those lines next time you stage an attack.” I shrugged. “You’ve really got to have the name down before you try and take over the government, or no one will ever side with you. It’s all in the name, remember that. It’s all about the branding. Please tell me you did market research before all this?”

  They looked surprised. I didn’t blame them. Confusion was exactly what I was going for. The secret out of any situation, I had learned from Zander, was to keep talking until you knocked them out of their element.

  “And whose side are you on, exactly?” asked Barshook, sitting across from me on his side of the desk.

  “Yours.” I grinned. “Well, technically, I’m all for taking down the Alliance, but this is a mess. All you’ll have managed to do here tonight is prick the side of a mighty lion. And slaughter a lot of innocent people. You’re not going to get away with that.”

  “What of the Iron and the Sand?” he asked.

  “Oh, I think they agree with me. They hate the Alliance like I do—possibly even more; lifetimes worth of fury, you see—but they’ve always been about helping those the Alliance hurts, whereas you’ve just proven you don’t care for lives. All they’re trying to do is get everyone out of here alive, and too bad for you that you’re standing in their way, because … well, you know what happens when someone gets in their way.” I gave him a sly smile. “Oh, don’t look so surprised. What did you expect when you came tonight? A pat on the back for massacring innocents?”

  “Innocents? The oligarchs of a crumbling, decadent society?” Barshook trembled with fury. “We’re trying to make the Planetary Alliance what it once was: a democracy, free of terror and totalitarianism.”

  “By bringing your own terror? I know what you’re trying to do, and I agree with your ideals, but I need to say this again because you’re not listening to me: You’re not doing it right. Do you suffer from dry tentacles? Try Oli Oli Oil! It’s soft and cruelty-free, as our goo is harvested only from the gentlest retchings of the Great Way beast of Namura. When your tentacles begin to dry and peel, reach for Oli Oli Oil!”

  “What. The. Frash?” asked Barshook.

  “I’m sorry. I got my translator from a cereal box.”

  “That’s okay,” said the miming man. “We do what we can. I got mine in a social media giveaway.”

  “Shut up, Shizel,” Barshook hissed. He turned back to me. “So, Oli Oli Oil, what do you suggest we should have done differently?”

  “Back the Alliance leadership into a corner. The people, all the impoverished, all the suppressed, they are already on your side. All you need to do is lead the charge, and you can’t do that with a thoughtless slaughter. Start with the outer planets, those farther away. Those are the easiest to take back since they are out of reach from the Alliance’s immediate response teams. After that, you can easily choke them o
ut and work your way toward the center. Wait. It’s not up to me to tell you how to lead a rebellion! What the hell? Anyway, the spark to light the flame will come from people standing up for their rights, not killing a bunch of busboys and waitstaff who were just doing their jobs at an expensive gala.”

  “A lecture. From a hostage. This is the day I’m having.” The man pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “Why are you telling me this?”

  “Because I want justice as much as any of you. Hell, that’s why I’m here tonight! I just don’t want anyone else to die here.”

  “We gave them a chance,” said Barshook with a shrug, leaning back into his chair. “We cleaned up the other rebel group, the ones doing the actual senseless killing. We warned them about the bomb. They still have a chance to give themselves up. They don’t have to die.”

  “And by ‘they,’ you mean whoever is left alive. How do you know anyone is even down there?”

  They looked at each other quickly, and I leaned back against the chair to wait for their response. Time was ticking; I had to do something.

  All I could do was keep talking.

  “Tell you what, how about negotiations? With Zander and Blayde, of course. One, the other, or both. And believe me, the offer does not stand for a long time. Eventually, those holding them captive …” This time I showed my teeth with my grin. The universal sign of ‘don’t screw with me.’

  One of the men in black rushed in, his mask hanging around his neck, and slammed the door shut behind him. “The coats! The coats!”

  Or maybe I didn’t have to do anything. Maybe, just this once, I could sit back and let this all play out.

  “What the frash?” stammered Barshook, but before he could finish his thought, the door was practically thrown off its hinges by strong and repeated punches.