“We’ve had to deal with traitors,” the officer told him. “I’m sure your scans will have told you there’s a corvette crashed less than thirty kilo-cubits from where we stand.
“She was crewed by Humans as well and they were a part of the attack on this colony. They kidnapped Lady Gabriella so Memnon could dig out her knowledge of our defenses.”
“Gabriella?” Max took an involuntary step forward and froze. The garrison forces all brought their weapons up in response to his unexpected motion and the officer…
He was just gone… Nope, Max thought, grimacing at the telltale click-whine of a sidearm behind his head. He’s definitely not gone.
These were some of Gleb’s hardcore killers, the kind of troops that kept the emperor himself up at night. The guy pointing the gun at his head could do that mystical self-teleportation stuff.
He held up his hands. “We’re not traitors,” he said. “We were at Heliopolis when Eth told me to commandeer a freighter and come evac the colony.”
“Where’s the freighter?”
“Gas giant.” No need for more than that. This system only had the one.
One of the troopers in front of Max nodded at the officer behind him and… Max shivered. He was gone. He felt his sidearm slide out of his holster.
“Alright, Captain Johnson, one more question from an old pal of yours.” The officer walked around to face him from the front again, his own weapon holstered.
He hefted Max’s pistol. “How did you get your callsign?”
Max chuckled. “Let’s just say it wasn’t safe to use a shower cubicle on the old Endeavor on Taco Tuesday – not if I owed you one.”
The garrison officer nodded absently, clearly listening to someone talking to him through his armor. He stepped forward and handed Max his pistol back.
“Looks like you’re a welcome face, Captain! If you’ll come with us, he gestured to a large run-about.
Max walked alongside the officer. “You mentioned Gabriella,” He said. “Is she OK? Everyone’s been in a lather to find her since she was taken from Babilim.”
“She’s here.”
“Thank God for that!” Max’s step now had an extra bit of spring in it. “I was passed orders from Gleb himself to find her and get her to safety, along with the rest of the colony. That’s why we brought the freighter along.”
The man gave him an odd look. “You can tell her that when we get to the council chamber in Unity.”
That was the last Max got out of the man. They flew to the city in awkward silence, though he was partially able to distract himself with the rugged beauty of the planet.
A cool mist hung among the forested hills, lending a dramatic flair to the crashed cruiser as it slowly emerged ahead of them. She lay on her belly on the up-slope of a high hill.
She first emerged as a slowly darkening gray hulk in the mist. The ship was mostly intact at the stern but the damage became apparent as they flew toward the bows.
Large tentacles of nanites, their original pattern corrupted, waved erratically, so large that parts of them were still fully obscured in the mist. It looked as if some giant kraken had beached itself.
They passed the bizarre apparition and descended into the main square of Unity. The walls were manned by too many sentries for the garrison alone.
The settlers must be pitching in with the security forces, he thought as the runabout’s landing points thunked onto the carboncrete pavers.
They hopped out and the officer gestured for him to follow. He led the way up the main steps of the city’s council building, where a guard opened the door for him.
Max noticed the symbol on the guard’s armor. A white circle being eclipsed by a larger, blue one. Gleb and Luna’s sigil? he wondered. Did they find a way to get forces here ahead of our evac?
Inside was a large open space with a curving staircase leading up to a second level. He followed the officer up the stairs and past another guard at the chamber doors, this one also wearing the same device on his armor.
He saw Martin, one of his old shipmates from the Endeavor, grinning at him from a seat on the far side of the large oval table that dominated the room.
There was a mix of military and civilians around the table and the kid herself, sitting at the head next to an older guy that Max figured had to be Chairman Kawle.
This wasn’t the scene he’d been expecting. He was here to evacuate everyone and here they were, looking like they were in the middle of a damned meeting.
“Captain Johnson,” Gabriella greeted him politely. “You’re a welcome sight!”
“Y… yes, ma’am,” he replied, wondering why she seemed to be taking the lead over the civil and military authorities. Let’s get this shit-show back on track.
“If everyone can please get moving, I’m here to take you all to Babilim.”
Now Martin was giving him a weird look but he got up and moved around to Max, giving him a friendly slap on the back.
“We appreciate the offer, Captain,” Gabriella told him, “but, unless you’re aware of another inbound attack, we intend to stay. The crews of two crashed enemies are still out there in the jungle and we don’t want to come back and find them living inside our walls.”
“Ma’am.” Max stepped forward. “With respect, my orders come from G…” He caught himself, still not used to the titles that, as an American, he didn’t much care for.
“From Lord Gleb himself,” he finished.
“I appreciate the situation, Captain,” she said calmly, “but you have to understand that his orders can be adjusted by local authority, if the situation warrants.”
“Watch yourself, old buddy,” Martin breathed. “You’re talking to someone with the authority to do exactly what she’s talking about. This ain’t Kansas.”
Max looked at the other faces in the room. He had the distinct impression they agreed with her. “If the jungle is full of hostiles,” he said, turning to face Gabriella again, “doesn’t that just reinforce the need for evacuation?”
“We built this town with walls because of such threats,” Chairman Kawle told him. “I take my turn on the walls, like everyone else here. We intend to stay and defend our home.”
“And what if they load up a shuttle with troops and fly over your wall?” Max asked dryly. Who the hell flies Billions of klicks only to give up at the sight of a wall?
“I hope they try,” the garrison commander said, brimming with anticipation. “Let ’em all cram into a single, easily shot-down target and come at us.”
“We’re staying, Captain,” Gabriella told him. “If your orders went no further than our evacuation, then we’d appreciate if you could stay and help out.”
Martin made a sound in his throat and, when Max glanced at him, his old pal gave a slight confirmatory nod, urging him to agree.
Up to my neck in it now. “How can we be of help, my lady?”
Max sat on the steps of the council building, looking around the square. He’d been struck by the beauty of the place on arrival but he’d been in a rush at the time.
The square was roundish, for a square… Gigantic jungle trees grew in a park to his right, cordoned off because some of them could apparently render a person unconscious on contact.
The trees were a lovely counterpart to the magnificent soaring structures of temples and a church, all three clad in gold on their upper surfaces.
The churches were balanced by the civic building. The town hall was built in a style the locals called Indo-Romanesque.
It had a massive feel to it, with thick walls, thick pillars and slightly high arches that curved up to a point in the center. The high towers were topped with bulging domes, each clad in the gold that seemed so ubiquitous here.
He heard footsteps and knew who it was. The others had gone for a visit to the outpost where Max had landed.
“Nice to have something with a little punch out in orbit again.” Martin sat next to him with a sigh.
“Nice to feel needed,
I suppose,” Max groused.
“You kidding me, Max? We’ve been holding this place together with spit and bailing wire. Having a proper ship out there to coordinate our fighter patrols with and a proper senior officer to assume orbital command?”
Martin chuckled. “May not seem like much to you but we’ll take what we can get our hands on and consider ourselves damned lucky. I talked you up big-time when we heard you were here.”
He gave Max a gentle shove with his elbow. “So don’t make me look like an ass, OK?”
Max grinned. “Since when have you needed my help?” he asked, referring to the ass comment.
“Always, old buddy,” Max said seriously. “Always.”
Max grunted. He gazed up over the walls at the highlands. The breeze was warm and… oddly spicy somehow. Well, this is an alien world…
“How did this happen?” he asked Martin.
“Ships showed up,” Martin said, shrugging. “We fought. We won, just barely, but we won.”
“Yeah, I get that.” Max shook his head. “How did you end up taking your marching orders from that teenage girl?”
Martin was quiet for quite a while, so long that Max was wondering if he’d given his old pal offense. When he finally replied, it was quiet and measured.
“That teenage girl,” Martin said, gently stressing the words, “came here as a prisoner on the Deathstalker, Memnon’s flagship. She escaped into the guts of the ship while they were in path.
“She rigged the ship to crash; took her chances, along with the crew. She saved us from orbital bombardment after Bill stopped that first salvo.”
“Shit!” Max chewed that over for a bit. “More to the kid than I thought.” Maybe she’s not such an entitled brat, after all.
“You’re not wrong,” Martin agreed. “She fought her way clear of the wreck, confirmed Memnon’s… situation… and then…” He laughed.
“While me and the boys were still complaining about our ouchies, she commandeers a fighter, right out from under my nose, and brings down the enemy corvette that’s still smoking, down in the valley.”
“Enemy corvette...” Max said, shaking his head. “She had good reason to be pissed, didn’t she?” Am I saying she might not have done all that if they hadn’t killed her mother? He sucked at his teeth meditatively, staring down at the carboncrete cobblestones of the ‘square’.
“She’s got more than just rage going for her,” Martin said, as if guessing at Max’s thoughts.
“We brought her back here but the chairman and Mal were having a pissing contest over who should be calling the shots. Don’t get me wrong,” he looked over at his friend.
“They’re both good men. They just had very different ideas on how to approach the burning shit-dumpster we had on our hands.”
He pulled out something from his pocket, wrapped in a plant-fiber sheet. He opened it, broke the snack-bar inside in half and offered him a piece.
“She watched them piss on each other’s legs for a bit, getting nowhere but making great time. Finally, she just tells them that, since she’s first in the line of succession, she embodies both military and civil authority.
“They can go do their jobs and, if their playgrounds intersect, she’ll adjudicate.”
“Just like that?”
“That’s what Mal and Sushil thought too. They were ready to go home and stew about it but she wasn’t going to waste the momentum. Told Mal he had to provide me with security for what’s left of the Kuphar, which is an airbase, now. Can’t have any scheming insurgents attacking us while we’re waiting for nanites to build our hangars under the mountains.”
“No shit?” Max was starting to feel grudging respect for the young woman. “How’d he take that?”
A shrug. “Probably better than either of us would have. Remember, Mal’s originally from the empire. Feudal authority is absolute there. He might have been quietly hoping she kept her mouth shut but he still knew she was the rightful authority on the ground.
“If she’d told him to kill all the colonists and then off himself...” Martin threw his hands out to the sides. “I’m not saying he wouldn’t do it…”
“How the hell can they live like that?” Max exploded. “Those numb-nuts have ships that can travel between systems in a couple of weeks and they still live like a bunch of medieval serfs?”
“You saying we’re any different?” Martin arched an eyebrow at him. “Folks back home spend a lot of time beating their chests and screaming about freedom…”
“So?”
“So,” Martin said darkly, “sometimes it feels like it’s just more feudalism but with better marketing.”
“Bullshit!”
“Oh yeah?” Martin folded up the wrapper and slipped it back in his pocket. “Who’d you have to choose between last election?”
“You’re kind of proving my…”
“’Cause they both probably take ‘donations’ from the same companies.”
He looked at Max. “Those companies are ruled by the hereditary class. Same shit, different marketing. Politicians are just the middle men.”
Max just shook his head.
“Anyway,” Martin got up. “Let’s go pay our respects to Wild Bill.”
Max followed him across the square to a stone pavilion set against the park wall. It opened at the back into a small enclave among the trees.
It was a circular space, surrounded by a heavy metal fence to prevent visitors touching the massive trees around them.
A figure in the center, a statue built out of bronze by nanites, stood in EVA armor, looking up to the sky. It held a pistol in one hand and playing cards in the other. A fresh, bright blue flower had been tucked in behind his ear.
Max felt a lump in his throat.
Aces and Eights.
Who wants breakfast?
Refuge
Unity, Ragnarok
“Keep them closed,” Vikram urged. “We’re almost there.”
Gabriella was trusting him not to lead her over the edge of the roof or, at least, she was acting like someone who could trust anyone.
He’s a sweet guy, she reminded herself. He’s excited to show me what he’s been doing up here, so just go along with it.
Did he just cook this whole thing up for another excuse to hold hands? She shook the idea off. Not that I’d mind but I doubt he even thinks of me like that. The girls here are freaking gorgeous… She shook that off as well.
The last thing she needed right now was more complication in her life. She spent half her time resolving disputes among the colonists and the other half wishing she’d kept her mouth shut.
The problem was that her mouth, as often happens, had kicked into gear before her brain could run the numbers. What else was I supposed to do?
They’d just lost most of their defenses, the garrison commander and the chairman were arguing and there were two crashed ships pouring enemy survivors out into the jungle.
The teenager in her, used to being the rebel against adult authority, had suddenly realized that she was the authority. The law was clear and it was literally written into her neurons by one of those pods.
She’d started with Mal, who was pretty much certain to respect the feudal system he’d been created to serve. With Mal on board, Sushil hadn’t put up any objections when she’d asked him for volunteer colonists to help man the walls.
The problem with taking on leadership was that too many folks thought you’d do their thinking for them. She suspected that the folks pestering her were simply a headache she’d inherited from Mal and Sushil.
“Open them!” Vikram said.
She did. The top floor of the McAdam house had previously been flat and featureless, except for Terry’s apartment and a pad for the runabout.
Now, there was an arcaded walkway leading from the stairs, past the apartment and runabout to a small structure at the north end.
It had a domed roof, clad in what looked like copper. The walls between the slender pillars
were a delicately formed lattice work. He’s pretty good at coding!
“Very nice,” she reached out to touch the screen. “We saw screens like this when we visited Cordoba…” Her breath caught in her throat.
The trip had been a treat for her grandparents, arranged by her mom… “Sorry.” She gave him a sad smile. “Seems like, every now and then, something reminds me of my mom.”
“Yeah.” Vikram gave the hand he was still holding a little squeeze. “It kind of takes over the happy memories, doesn’t it?”
“Does it ever end?”
“Not that I’ve noticed,” he admitted, “but you do get to a point where the memories have more joy than sorrow.”
She had no idea how she happened to be in his arms. One second she was standing next to him, the next she had her face resting on his shoulder, her arms around his back.
He patted the back of her shoulder awkwardly. Somehow, it was nicer that he wasn’t quite sure of how to handle the situation.
“Thank-you,” she said, for being someone that understands losing a parent, for being a normal person in the middle of a screwed-up Universe, for being nice...
They disentangled. “So,” she said, sniffing, “what’s the plan for this place?”
“That’s up to you,” he told her. “It seems like everybody here wants you to step in and solve their problems. You need somewhere to get away from that.”
He nodded down into the house’s atrium. “You need someplace that’s not your bedroom, where you can enjoy a little freedom from responsibility. Maybe folks will remember how to solve their problems on their own if you’re not immediately available.”
She smiled at him, unable to speak but reasonably sure he could read the gratitude on her face. First his family had given her a place in their home and, now, Vikram had dragged nanites up here to construct this place for her.
He smiled back but then his eyes suddenly looked like they were cos-playing as puffer fish. He was staring at a spot behind her.
She turned to find herself wrapped in an armored embrace that smelled like home.
Ragnarok: Colonization, intrigue and betrayal. Page 27
