by Joe Vasicek
From his little finger, he pulled off a smooth gold band, with an enormous milky white gemstone set in the center. Stella’s eyes widened as he held it out to her.
“Well, don’t just stare at it,” Qasar said. “Hold out your hand and let me slip it on.”
For a moment, Stella thought that he meant the hand with the pill, and her muscles seized up in sudden fright. A glance and a nod, however, told her he meant her right. With a quiet sigh of relief, she held it out, trying very hard not to tremble.
He slipped it onto her middle finger without any trouble. It was a perfect fit. He laughed.
“Truly, a sign that the gods ordained our marriage,” He paused for a moment, letting her admire the carefully cut stone. “Would you like to know where the jewel comes from?”
“Yes,” said Stella. What else could she say?
“In the Tenguri system, there is a great temple on the primary moon of the first planet. Tenguri-kan, they call it—The Abode. As the moon passes between Tenguri and his star, the flames of eternity melt the surface into glass.”
What a hellish place, Stella thought.
“The gemstone you wear on your finger was taken from deep beneath the surface,” Qasar continued, “where heat and pressure and the will of the god combine to make the finest jewels known to man. So you see, my dear, it is truly a fitting gift for the namesake of a goddess.”
He lifted her hand and kissed it softly. The moisture of his lips felt cool on her skin. Her arm grew limp, and she let it fall after he released her hand.
“I hope it pleases you, Sholpan,” he said.
“I—I don’t know what to say.”
There’s no way Borta will let me live now, she bemoaned herself. Not with this.
He poured them both a second goblet of wine. “Then let us drink to it. To our union, and a bounteous future!”
She took the goblet and smiled. While he drank, she opened her hand and stared at the pill. It had lost its solid consistency, but was still mostly there. Perhaps she could—but no, that was no longer an option. Instead, she dropped it over the edge of the bed, wiping her hand in the folds of her dress.
That decides it, she thought to herself. I’m not going to sleep with him. Strangely, she felt a calming peace come over her. Now that the anticipation was over, it was as if a great burden had been lifted from her shoulders.
Burden or not, however, that didn’t change the fact that tomorrow morning, she was going to die.
* * * * *
That night, Stella dreamed that she was home again, walking the tree-lined streets of the Colony. She searched for her parents, but she couldn’t find them anywhere. All the familiar shops and avenues were closed, and the streets were empty, as if the entire station were deserted. She started running, but the faster she tried to go, the more her progress slowed. As she ran, the corridors became narrower and narrower, until she was in the spartanly decorated corridors of the Lion of Tenguri. She ran for her life, even though she knew that she would never escape.
She woke from the dream in a heavy sweat, sprawled face-down across the bed. Her clothes were wet, and her waist felt sore where her belt clasp had rubbed against her stomach in the night. Her body felt so stiff that she could have been asleep for days. She moaned and stretched, turning over onto her back.
“What a dream,” she mumbled. “Tamu, are you awake? Tamu?”
In an instant, she realized that she was in Qasar’s bedchamber, not the concubines’ quarters. Her eyes flew open and she sat bolt upright, glancing frantically about the room.
Qasar was gone. She was alone.
Borta shares this room with Qasar, Stella thought nervously to herself. She probably even shares this bed with him.
She wasn’t safe here.
In a frenzied burst of energy, she threw off the bedsheets and slid onto the floor. She was halfway out the room when she remembered the ring, lying on the bedside table. Turning around, she slipped it into her skirt pocket and ran to the door.
Someplace public, she thought to herself, trying to remain calm. I have to go where there will be witnesses.
The door hissed open. Stella crouched against the wall and peeked around the corner. The corridor was empty, but it was better lit than the bedroom, with fewer places to hide.
Keeping her back to the wall, she slipped out and made her way forward, stepping as quietly as she could on her bare feet. The corridor was straight and smooth, but it was long—much too long—and empty. Except for the distant hum of the ship’s ventilators, all was silent. Stella wondered if anyone would hear her if she screamed—probably not.
The elevator door lay less than fifty yards away now—but the guards were no longer there. Her heart skipped a beat, and her stomach dropped out from underneath her. Where had they gone? Had Borta paid them off? Was this a trap?
Calm down, Stella told herself. Think.
If this was one of Borta’s traps, it was certainly a good one. The only way Stella knew to get to the concubines’ quarters was through that elevator. Perhaps she could find an alternate route on a lower level, but she would probably get lost along the way, becoming an even easier target. On the other hand, the elevator wasn’t far—she could probably reach it in a few seconds. If it was a trap, Borta would certainly kill her—but it was her only way to safety. She decided to risk it.
Her bare feet pounded the hard metal floor as she sprinted for the elevator. Seconds later, she slammed up against it, legs and lungs burning from exertion. She pounded the access panel over and over again until the door hissed open. It was empty. She slipped in and held her breath; only when the doors closed did she allow herself to relax.
Thank God, she thought to herself, leaning heavily against the opposite wall. Once she made it to the concubines’ quarters, there would be enough witnesses to keep Borta from taking direct action to kill her. For once, Stella was grateful for the total lack of privacy.
As the door opened again, the pungent, familiar smell of the concubines’ quarters washed over her. She peered out into the lavishly decorated corridor and gasped.
No one was in sight. The place was as empty as the corridor outside Qasar’s bedchamber.
What’s going on? she asked herself in desperation. Did Borta clear the concubines’ quarters, just to show that she could? Stella wouldn’t put it past the woman. Still, where else could she go? If Borta could kill her in her own room, nowhere on the ship was safe.
Stella took a tentative step out of the elevator door, her feet dragging on the shaggy carpet. The elevator door hissed shut behind her, making her jump.
Memories of her family came to her mind—of her mother, always so kind and cheerful, and her brothers, who genuinely loved each other, if only in a rough and tumble kind of way. She pictured her father, stern and austere, yet always concerned for her well-being. She hadn’t always been able to see it, but he had only wanted the best for her. I didn’t give in, she wanted to tell him, tears flooding her eyes. I kept my virtue—I didn’t die a whore.
Down the hallway, she saw movement. She froze where she stood, rooted to the spot with nowhere to hide.
This is it.
The black-clad soldiers stepped into view, charging straight at her. At the sight of their guns, Stella screamed and panicked. She turned to run, but stumbled and fell to her knees. All too soon, they reached her.
“Don’t hurt me! Don’t hurt me!” she screamed, reverting to her native Kardunasian in her panic. They ignored her cries and lifted her to her feet, marching her towards the dormitories.
They aren’t killing me, she gradually realized. Borta must not have sent them.
Then why are they here?
After a few moments, they let go and let her lead them. With the two armed escorts, she made straight for her quarters. They assumed guard positions at the door, whether to protect her or to keep her inside, she didn’t know.
The beads clattered as she slipped inside. Tamu glanced up from the bed.
“Oh, it’s you, sweetie,” she said, jumping to the floor. “My, but you had a long night.” She winked and came forward, arms outstretched.
“Tamu!” said Stella, giving her roommate a long hug. “Where are the others? What’s with the soldiers?”
“Hush, dear,” said Tamu. “Don’t worry—you’re safe.”
“But what’s going on?”
“The whole ship’s been put into lockdown.”
“Lockdown?”
“Yes, dear. Haven’t you heard?”
Stella gave her roommate a funny look.
“Oh, silly me,” said Tamu. “Of course you haven’t.”
“Heard what?”
“The news.” She glanced through the bead curtain at the guards, then turned back to Stella.
“Borta is dead.”
Chapter 14
Danica stared at the telescopic image of Kardunash IV on her main screen. The world lay some eight hundred thousand kilometers off their bow, shrouded in grayish-brown clouds and debris. Dead.
Just like Tajjur V, she thought to herself. Then again, the Imperials had occupied her homeworld long before the Hameji had razed it. Her family had been dead for years, and she in a self-imposed exile for nearly half her lifetime. Not that it had amounted to much—but still, it was enough to ground her. For James, however, it was a completely different story.
“How far out are we?” James asked from behind her, his tone betraying his impatience.
“We’re about eight hundred k-clicks out,” said Danica. “The port authority will be expecting us to hail them soon.” She turned to Ilya. “Lieutenant Ayvazyan, are we within range?”
“Yeah,” said Ilya. “Five light-seconds should be enough. I’m ready when you are.”
“Good. Sikorsky, Ayvazyan, prepare for transmission.”
“Yes, Captain,” said Anya. She nodded to Ilya, who slipped on a headset and began typing on the myriad keyboards spread out in front of his chair.
“What’s that?” James asked, pointing to the main screen.
The main orbital station stood out against the dead gray backdrop of Kardunash IV. Its docking arms jutted out from the central hub like spider legs, noticeably devoid of the usual flurry of ships and cargo. That wasn’t what James was pointing at, however. Two Hameji warships orbited in tandem with the station, dwarfing it with their enormous bulk.
Those ships could blow them out of the sky at any minute, even from five light-seconds away. All it would take was one bomb, jumped to their location—or worse, a boarding party. No one knew what the Hameji did with their prisoners, and Danica didn’t want to find out if she could help it.
“Hameji warships, Ensign,” she said. “Don’t worry; we’ll be careful not to provoke them. Right, Ayvazyan?”
“They’ll never see us coming,” said Ilya.
“What about Ben and Stella?” James asked. “How long will it take to find them?”
I doubt we ever will, thought Danica. Instead, she turned to Ilya. “Well, Ayvazyan?”
“Just give me a couple hours,” he muttered. “If they’re alive, I’ll find them.”
“Good. Sikorsky, keep your eye on those warships. If anything seems fishy to you, let me know at once.”
“Yes, Captain.”
Danica slipped on a headset and pulled the microphone to her mouth as she typed commands on the keyboard in front of her. “I’m opening a channel to the port authority,” she announced. “All hands, stand by.”
Static briefly filled the air, followed by silence. A red light blinked on her main console, indicating that the transmission was live.
“Kardunash IV,” she said, “this is the Catriona, requesting to dock for fuel and supplies, over.”
Out of mental habit, she counted the seconds for the return transmission. Five, six, seven…
“Roger, Catriona, this is K-4 port authority,” came a voice over the main speaker on the bridge. “We read you loud and clear. Docking space is available in our main bay. Please transmit your flight plans for confirmation of approach.”
Danica glanced at Ilya and nodded once. He returned the gesture.
“Transmitting our flight plans now.”
Two, three, four, five…
“We’ve got a connection,” said Ilya. “Mole successfully embedded. I’m mapping the Hameji network now.”
“What do you see so far?”
“They’ve got a couple firewalls, some high level encryption going on, but nothing I can’t crack in a couple days. Frankly, I’m surprised their security measures are so poor.”
That’s because only an idiot would try what we’re doing, Danica thought silently to herself. That’s why we’re going to get away with it.
“How large is the network?”
“Hard to say,” said Ilya. “From the looks of it, though, I’m guessing it’s system-wide.”
“Does that mean they’re here?” James blurted.
“We don’t know yet, Ensign,” said Danica. “Ayvazyan, I want you working on this round the clock. Find what we need as soon as you can, and remove any trace that you were there.”
“Gotcha.”
“We’ll be at port no longer than forty-eight hours,” she said glancing at Anya to make sure she heard as well. “I want a skeleton crew on the ship at all times, and anyone going off-ship must leave their weapons behind.”
“What if they’re on one of those ships?” James asked, frowning. “What then?”
“We follow our scheduled itinerary until I decide otherwise.”
“But if—”
“No ‘if’s, Ensign. We don’t go in until we have a solid plan of action. If that means flying halfway to Kardunash III before turning around to get them, so be it.”
James’s face fell. He bit his lip and stared at the screens.
Reckless, Danica thought to herself. That boy wouldn’t last a day if he were trying this on his own. Then again, even with her help, there was no guarantee that things would work out for him. She only hoped that when it was over, all of her men were still alive.
* * * * *
The rhythmic march soothed the collective pathos of the platoon. Still, the boy without a name felt a lingering hint of anxiety that their unity could not pacify. Today’s march was not a routine exercise; it was different.
They assembled in the main hall at the bow of the training ship. The magnificent observation windows offered a stunning view of the brilliant deep-space starfield, though no one bothered to admire it. Without thinking, they formed ranks, moving as a single unit. None of them so much as fidgeted.
Sergeant Voche marched up to the front. He turned smartly, his razor thin beard sharply outlining his long chin and narrow face. The boy watched him out of the corner of his eyes as he and his brethren waited anxiously for the sergeant to speak.
“Soldiers of the Red Dragon,” Voche bellowed, “when you came to us, you were broken and dejected. We stripped you of your weakness and turned you into men. We taught you how to fight and gave you back your honor. Now, you stand together, perfectly united—ready to defeat any enemy that may face you!”
A tremor of excitement passed through them all. The boy without a name felt tears come to his eyes.
“As you begin your first tour of duty in the Hameji Empath Corps,” Voche continued, “remember that the enemy fears you more than you fear them, for they are weak and disunited. You are stronger than them. Victory over the weak is your destiny—it is the destiny of all Hameji!”
The boy lifted up his fist and let out a tremendous war cry. His voice mingled in unison with those of his platoon brothers, who soon followed suit. The sound of their combined voices resounded throughout the hall, echoing off of the star-filled windows.
Your first tour of duty, he thought with eager anticipation. He could hardly wait to begin.
* * * * *
James walked alone down the main thoroughfare of the station, drifting down the nearly empty street in a state of shock. Most of the other
mercenaries were back at the docks, touring the bars and brothels. James, of course, had no interest in any of that. He wanted to see the devastation of war for himself—to see if it was actually real.
It was.
The upscale commercial district was in utter shambles. The once-bustling street filled with hundreds of small shops and boutiques was now all but deserted. Garbage, shattered glass, and broken merchandise lay strewn about the ground. The shops were all boarded up, with gaping holes in the doors and windows where the looters had gotten through. Black scorch marks streaked some of the walls, while specks of dried blood could be seen in places, mingled with the garbage and debris. The enormous lights hanging from the station’s skyroof barely illuminated the scene. Several of them had been blown out in the chaos, and the few that remained now flickered haphazardly, giving the neighborhood an eerie twilight feel.
The few remaining people in this part of the station either huddled in the alleys or slouched along the walls. They stared at him with dark, suspicious eyes as he passed them.
James swallowed hard and walked faster. It all felt surreal, like something from a bad dream. Kardunash IV, the Colony, and now this station—all the universe was falling to pieces around him, and he couldn’t do anything about it.
No, he told himself, I can do something. I can save Ben and Stella.
“Spare a little food, sir?” said a woman near the side of the road. She stepped in front of his path, forcing him to stop. “Please, just a little something?”
“I’m sorry,” said James, holding up his hands. His father had always told him not to give to beggars.
The woman fell to her knees and started weeping. “Please,” she cried, “I have two daughters who are starving—they took my husband—we can’t afford passage—”
James bit his lip and reluctantly reached into his pocket. “Just a second,” he said, “I might have something—”
