Revolutionary Right

by Wayne Basta

  There had been many people in the bakery who had seen their arrest. Word would have spread. It would just be a matter of time before that word reached an Alliance officer. Then questions would be asked, and the sheriff would be unable to produce his prisoners. He would either say he let them go or that Owrik ordered him to let them go. Blame would fall either on the sheriff or Owrik.

  It also would not be hard for the Alliance to figure out how the group had gotten onto the base. Only one non-military person had been let onto the base that day, as far as she knew. Why had none of these things occurred to her before? She prided herself on being able to see and anticipate events.

  The thought struck her that she had considered these things but ignored them. Help had been so unexpected, especially after their near brush with a return to prison. Had she been so blinded by her desire to carry this mission off that she had failed to consider the consequences?

  As she pondered this, Maarkean flew the ship in a trajectory that was clearly visible to the base’s sensors. This worried Saracasi until she realized Maarkean was doing it intentionally. He had said they needed to make a visible exit.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The escape from Dantyne proved uneventful, and once they were in hyperspace, everyone got the chance for some much needed sleep. But after spending a day in a crate of vegetables, Maarkean was more interested in getting a shower first. When he got up the next morning, he found Lahkaba in the crew lounge. No one else had risen yet.

  After some innocuous pleasantries, Maarkean made himself some breakfast. While he poured himself a bowl of cereal, he considered Lahkaba. There had been no chance to speak to the Kowwok since the revelation about his position as a Sulas representative. This news had left Maarkean feeling worried and slightly betrayed. He had thought that a trust had developed between himself and the Kowwok.

  On the other hand, he had suspected there was more to Lahkaba than he had known. It had never been clear why he would be involved with the others. Sitting down at the table with Lahkaba, Maarkean considered how to broach the subject. There must have been a reason he had not said anything before.

  While Maarkean considered, Lahkaba said, “I appreciate that you haven’t asked about me being a representative to the Kreogh Sector Congress.”

  “I assumed you had your reasons for wanting to keep it to yourself,” Maarkean said, trying to hide his relief that he hadn’t asked yet.

  Lahkaba began, “I was chosen as a representative because I had been in the Dotran military. Sulas wanted to send a signal to the other colonies that they were prepared to take serious action. The other colonies were not ready, and so we ended up just sending a list of grievances to the Alliance. You can’t even call them demands, because the Congress wasn’t prepared to do anything.

  “Some colonies, like Dantyne, have their own boycotts going, but no one would even agree to joint boycotts across the colonies. Sulas wanted a united front in opposing all Alliance orders and laws until the trade restrictions and the prison camps were closed. But no other world has the prison camps that Sulas does, so no one else was willing to fight for those. I don’t think they even understood them.”

  Maarkean began ignoring his breakfast as Lahkaba talked. The Kowwok appeared to be unloading himself. “Then you and Zeric showed up. For some reason, you believed the news stories about Lei-mey being a terrorist, yet had come seeking us out. At first, I believed Jairyd that it was some kind of setup. But you were right, had you been Alliance, we would have just been arrested, and if you had wanted to gain our trust, you would have pretended to be opposed to Alliance rule.”

  Lahkaba leaned forward and looked directly at Maarkean. The intensity of the gaze was a little unsettling, but Maarkean didn’t look away. Why Lahkaba was telling him all of this now was still unclear, but he suspected they were coming to that.

  “You came to us with a simple request; you wanted to get your sister out of prison. A prison you thought she was in for no good reason. You asked for our help because you knew we had someone in there we wanted out, too. And you didn’t just want to get those two out, you wanted to get everyone out.”

  Maarkean cringed inwardly. While he agreed that it was good all of those innocent people were free now, he knew a lot of not-so-innocent people had been freed as well. It had really only been convenient to their escape plan to get everyone out.

  Lahkaba went on, “Now, I know getting everyone else out just happened to be the best plan. But regardless, you show up from nowhere and accomplish something representatives from seven worlds couldn’t accomplish. I never wanted to reveal who I was because you did what we couldn’t. And you weren’t even trying. I was embarrassed.”

  The admission at the end surprised Maarkean more than anything else Lahkaba had said. He had never thought about the events on Sulas like that. Granted, he had been unaware of much of the background Lahkaba just revealed. He didn’t think he had done anything special. Saving his sister had been his goal, and he had accomplished that. Staging a prison break was not a revolutionary idea.

  Not sure what to say, Maarkean said nothing. Past experience had taught him silence was sometimes the best thing to say. He didn’t always follow that advice, but this time he really didn’t know how to respond.

  Lahkaba continued, looking a little ashamed. “I decided not to go back to the others on Irod because I honestly thought I would do more good coming with you. And we have. Sure, we only stole and destroyed some Alliance property. And maybe it’s just because you owe a criminal money. But it’s more than I could do hiding on a forgotten moon.”

  Maarkean still wasn’t sure how to respond. None of the events Lahkaba praised had been intentional on his part, and the Kowwok seemed to be aware of Maarkean’s true intentions for everything that had happened, yet he still seemed to respect Maarkean.

  Since Lahkaba had inferred most of his intentions, Maarkean decided honesty wouldn’t hurt at this point. “I never wanted to get involved in any of this. You’re right; my entire motivation on Sulas was to free Saracasi. My entire motivation for the operation on Dantyne was money and staying on the good side of a bad man. I guess I’m flattered that you thought coming with me would help your cause more than anything else, but I’m not sure that it can.”

  Lahkaba looked up at Maarkean with a concerned look on his face, and Maarkean continued, “You may feel like you’re actually doing something right now, but all we accomplished was stealing stuff. Your Kreogh Sector Congress is the best way to get what you want. Appealing to the government reasonably and without violence is the best way to go. Sticking with me will just make you a common criminal.”

  Not wanting to continue the conversation any further, Maarkean picked up his half-eaten breakfast and moved back into the kitchen. Lahkaba remained quiet as he emptied his bowl. He almost thought he would make it out of the lounge without another word being said, but Lahkaba spoke when he got to the corridor.

  “I think you’re wrong,” Lahkaba said, fixing a powerful look on Maarkean. “I don’t think our message to the Alliance government is going to do anything. They’ve never been keen to listen to the colonies’ formal governments, and they know we’re not willing to stand up to them, because the Alliance Navy is just too powerful. But your actions say otherwise. They show the people of this sector that the Alliance is not invulnerable. Once they see that, they’ll be willing to stand up with a stronger voice. Then, the government might listen to us.”

  Maarkean looked at the conviction in Lahkaba’s eyes. He was seeing the fire of a true believer. Oh, crap, was the only thought that came to his mind.

  The journey back to the Black Market took far longer than Zeric thought it would. When they reached the coordinates that the ship had last been, they found only empty space. The ship had moved on to a new hiding spot. This was not an uncommon experience, especially since the ship had been stationary for a few months.

  Tracking down a contact with the new coordinates took several weeks. Anytime the B
lack Market moved, it took a while for the new location to spread throughout the ship’s agents. The first one they visited, on Kol, didn’t have the new location. With funds running low, they were also forced to pawn off some of their stolen Alliance equipment. After that sale, they couldn’t afford to remain on Kol.

  Then they had a four-day journey to Mirthod to use Zeric’s contact, who, fortunately, had the new coordinates. But, to Zeric’s disappointment, the location was over a week’s journey by hyperspace, even at the Cutty Sark’s high speed. When they finally arrived at the Black Market, they had been traveling for almost six weeks.

  It was a miserable journey, in Zeric’s mind. Being crammed onto a small ship for that long had been driving him stir crazy. The ship was designed for a maximum capacity of eight with shared quarters. With seven of them, Saracasi was the only one with a room to herself. Gu’od and Gamaly shared, and Lahkaba and Lohcja shared. Zeric ended up bunked with Maarkean, since he didn’t appear to like the idea of Zeric sharing a room with his sister. He wasn’t quite sure what the problem was there. He’d figured out a while ago that Saracasi had no interest in men, so there was no hope of anything fun happening.

  With the SPC taking up the vast majority of the cargo bay, they all had very little room to move around. Where before the empty bay had served as a place to exercise and play games, they were now confined to the upper deck. The crew lounge was comfortable, but it got crowded fast. Maarkean had a fair selection of movies and books. Unfortunately, Zeric had seen all of the movies that he liked, and the stuff he had not seen involved Braz humor, a lot of which he just didn’t get.

  Despite the cramped space, Maarkean, Lahkaba, Lohcja and Gu’od continued to practice Ni’jar techniques. His friend’s abilities had always impressed him, but the concentration required was not for him. Maarkean and Lahkaba were getting pretty good, but he suspected Lohcja was more like him.

  Gamaly and Saracasi continued to bond, he noticed. It was an ability that amazed him sometimes. Regardless of species, women could form friendships. They always had something to talk about, despite being cramped onboard with everyone else and nothing new occurring.

  The biggest thing there had been to talk about was the news they had heard on Kol. There had been a major crackdown by the Alliance forces on Sulas. Apparently, after the Olan prison break, Governor Howell had instituted some harsh measures against the alien population. This had resulted in a backlash by the population like nothing that had occurred before.

  Responding to the unrest, the Alliance had dispatched troops to the city of Chuthor, the city where Zeric had found Lahkaba and the others, and seized a collection of weapons that had been stored there. The stories weren’t clear whose weapons they were. The Alliance claimed they belonged to rebel groups who were preparing to overthrow the government; they declared martial law across the planet. The cities of Ba’aar and Chuthor were under total military control.

  What had surprised him was the amount of sympathy for the people of Sulas. First on Kol and then on Mirthod, there were a lot of people talking openly about the events on Sulas and speaking negatively about the Alliance’s response. News was always several days old when it reached any other colony, yet the talk had been even more active on Mirthod than it had been on Kol, despite having reached Mirthod sooner.

  The news upset him some, as he had to admit to himself that his actions might in some way be responsible. Saracasi and Lohcja were angry. The weirdest reactions were from Lahkaba and Maarkean. Lahkaba kept giving Maarkean pointed, and Zeric would say smug, looks. Maarkean just looked ill.

  Once they reached the Black Market, Zeric was happy to step out onto the ship’s hangar deck. By comparison to the Cutty Sark, he felt like he was standing in a wide open field, despite the large number of ships and people moving about.

  As Zeric stood, taking in the relatively open space, Maarkean walked past him in his long brown duster. Smiling at his friend, Zeric said, “Where are you off to?”

  “Meet my contact so we can get this stuff off the ship,” Maarkean replied as he walked away.

  Zeric did not understand why Maarkean always insisted on going alone to these meetings. Whenever Gu’od, Gamaly or Zeric had a meeting with someone, they all served as backup for the others, even when they were supposed to come alone. It was just common sense to him.

  As if reading his mind, Gamaly and Gu’od came down the ramp not far behind Maarkean. Zeric eyed them curiously. “You guys going someplace, too?”

  Gamaly nodded. “We’re going to follow Maark.”

  “He’ll go ballistic if he finds out,” Zeric replied.

  “Maybe. After some debate with Maarkean, Saracasi agreed to stay behind. But I never made such an agreement. So we’re going to go in her place,” Gamaly said in a tone that brooked no argument.

  Zeric just nodded in response and followed the two Liw’kel through the crowded hangar deck. Following Maarkean through the corridors of the ship proved pretty easy. It helped that the location was on the same deck as the hangar. Had Maarkean boarded any of the ship’s transport lifts, it would have been much harder to track him without being seen.

  They followed Maarkean into a club called the Ready Room, which was moderately crowded. Exchanging nods with the others, they spread out through the room. Zeric took up a place at the bar where he was close enough to see but not hear Maarkean, who was sitting at a table in one corner alone.

  While they waited for something to happen, Zeric examined the room. The place was filled with a lot of rough-looking individuals, but so was every other place on the ship. He understood why Maarkean might be comfortable coming here. There were old photos of pilots, flight helmets, squadron emblems and other Alliance pilot paraphernalia decorating the room. It must be comforting to the old pilot.

  After some time, Maarkean was joined by a group. A well-dressed Terran took a seat across from Maarkean while the others stood nearby. Zeric wasn’t able to get a look at the man’s face, but he seemed familiar. He looked around the room for Gu’od and Gamaly.

  To his surprise, Gamaly was striding purposefully toward Maarkean’s table. Zeric didn’t think there was any way he could intercept her without causing a commotion. What was she thinking? Their goal was to remain unseen and only be there in case something bad happened. Gamaly interrupting the meeting would count as something bad happening.

  Deciding their cover was already blown, Zeric rushed to join Gamaly. Gu’od must have decided the same thing, and they reached her just as she got to one of the thugs standing guard. The tall, green-scaled Dotran gave the three of them a menacing look.

  “Stand aside,” Gamaly said quietly. So far, Maarkean and his contact had not taken notice of them. When the thug didn’t move, Gu’od reached out and grabbed a pressure point, dropping the thug to his knees. Gamaly stepped over the wincing Dotran and strode right up to the table.

  “Hello, Renard,” she said with a dark smile.

  Suddenly, Zeric recognized the Terran. He had seen the man before when Gamaly had gone to negotiate jobs and ship sales for them. He was the one who had hired them to hijack a number of ships, including the Cutty Sark.

  When Gamaly approached, Maarkean looked confused. Then he looked positively furious. To Zeric’s relief, his fury was focused on Renard rather than Gamaly. He was suddenly aware he had never really seen Maarkean mad before.

  “Renard,” Maarkean said with a low growl, “how did you and Gamaly here meet?”

  It was clear from his tone that Maarkean had figured out the connection. To Zeric’s astonishment, Renard remained calm and cold. He spoke in a straightforward manner as if he were talking about nothing more unusual than the weather.

  “Mrs. Dos’redna and her companions here have worked for me on occasion. They acquired ships for me that I desired.”

  “Ever hire them to ‘acquire’ a Swift class courier ship?”

  With a dark smile, Josserand said, “Now that you mention it, I believe I have. A few months back, actual
ly. About the time you yourself were hijacked. What a coincidence. I believe I tried to buy yours, but you refused.”

  Casting a glance over at Gu’od still holding one of the bodyguards on the ground, Renard took a drink and then said, “I’d keep him down there as long as you can. Once you let him go, he will kill you.”

  “If there’s going to be anyone dying tonight, it’s going to be you,” Maarkean said coldly.

  “Oh, I don’t think so,” Josserand replied. “See, you have assaulted one of my men. That is against the Fox’s rules. You can also consider our working relationship over. But your debt is not canceled.”

  “My debt?” Maarkean said, leaning forward over the table. “I owe you nothing. I was never supposed to deliver anything. You hired these guys to steal my ship, and the cargo was only your way of getting them onboard. The way I see it, you owe me.”

  Before Renard could respond, a group of people stormed into the club and headed toward their group. It didn’t take Zeric long to notice they were armed. He considered his options, but had no weapons available to him. He exchanged a look with Gu’od, who reluctantly released the Dotran guard.

  One of the new arrivals spoke. “All of you need to come with us.”

  The look on his face and the way he held his pistol told Zeric they had little choice.

  Maarkean was beginning to think that someone being arrested had become a requirement for any place they visited. The first time, it had required a prison break. The second time, they had been lucky. The third time, he was thinking, would result in a trip out an airlock.

  The seven of them were in the ship’s brig in two different cells. Maarkean saw that the room had hardly been modified. Every other room on the ship that was not vital to ship operations had been converted to some kind of business, storage room or meeting room.