by Joe Vasicek
“Is it food?” the woman asked, her eyes lighting up.
James pulled out a cash datachip, loaded with about twenty Gaian credits. “Here,” he said, offering it to her. “It’s not much, but it should buy you at least—”
The woman took it and threw it to the ground. “Twenty credits?” she shrieked. “I can’t buy a packet of cereal for that!”
“What are you talking about?” James asked. About a dozen people began to gather from the broken shops and alleys, curious to see what was going on.
“Just an energy bar,” the woman said, grabbing James’s leg. “Just that much—it’s all I ask.”
James shook her off and stepped back, glancing nervously around him. The crowd of beggars had him surrounded now, and soon they would converge on him. They eyed him hungrily, the same desperate look on their faces.
“I don’t have any food,” he told them. “I just have a little money—take my money!”
“Can’t eat money,” grunted the nearest one, a young man with a scar across his cheek. He stepped closer.
“Look,” said James, “let’s not do anything hasty. I—”
“He’s from the docks,” shouted another. “He’s got food!”
“No I don’t,” James shrieked. “I don’t, I swear!”
“He’s lying!”
James balled his hands into fists and darted forward, striking the person closest to him with a punch to the face. The blow connected with a sickening crunch, and the victim—a young, half-starved woman barely older than Stella—fell to the ground with a moan.
James stared down at her and instantly felt ashamed of himself. In another time and place, she could have been a well-off stationer’s daughter. Her clothes—a brown, embroidered tunic with a wide leather belt—betrayed her middle-class background. Before the invasion, she would have frequented these avenues as a regular customer at the small boutiques. Now, her clothes tattered and dirty, she—
“You hit her!” the voice called out. “Why did you hit her? What did she—”
“Stand back!” James shouted, spinning around. The beggars shrieked in fright and gave him his space.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” James pleaded with them. “Just let me through.”
They stood just out of range, but none of them ran away.
“I don’t have what you’re looking for,” James shrieked. “I don’t have anything!”
“We don’t believe you.”
“I don’t care. Let me go!”
“What if we don’t?”
James raised his fists and tried to ignore the sweat on the back of his neck. Alone, he could destroy any one of them, but together, he didn’t know what would happen. Maybe, if he let go like Danica had told him—but he’d have to strike first, and strike hard. The half-starved girl lying on the ground was just the first casualty of many.
Before either side could strike, however, the sound of marching boots came from down the street. The beggars scattered for the alleys, leaving James alone. As they cleared, he caught sight of a squad of black-clad Hameji soldiers headed straight for him, weapons drawn and in their hands.
A surge of panic rushed through him, and he took cover behind a dead tree on the side of the road. From there, he watched as the soldiers marched double-quick down the street. To his relief, they passed him by without even giving him a glance.
James soon realized that the soldiers were escorting someone of high importance: an officer in a gray uniform riding a hoverbike. From his vantage point, he got a good look at the Hameji officer. His face was dark, his beard thick and black. His eyes were narrowed, mouth turned slightly down. His eyes were a deep hazel that blended in with the black of his pupils, giving him the appearance of an animal.
If I had a gun, I could kill this man, James realized, adrenaline still flowing from the confrontation with the beggars. His muscles tightened, and the hair on his arms prickled upward. All it would take was a shot to the head.
The officer and his guard soon passed, the sound of their boots fading off into the distance. Slowly, the natives slunk out from the alleys and byways. Before the beggars could return for him, James ran as hard as he could, heart pounding as sweat dribbled down his forehead, into his eyes. The sounds of shouting and pursuit followed him a short distance, but they were too late to catch him. He ran until he was almost half a mile away.
As he stopped to catch his breath, Danica’s words echoed in his mind. Have you ever killed a man? Do you think you ever could? James fingered the empty holster on his belt and wondered what would have happened if he had been armed. Would he have killed the beggar girl instead of punching her? Would he have taken the shot at the Hameji officer?
If you want to fight a wolf, you have to become one.
James turned and ran down the refuse-ridden street towards the docks. Running helped distract him somewhat, but still his questions tortured him. The worst part of it all was not knowing what he would have done.
By all the stars of Earth, James wondered to himself, what am I becoming?
* * * * *
Through a window in the narrow observation chamber, Danica watched the dock operators move the last of the heavy crates into the freight airlock with their low gravity forklifts. The docking claw for the main cargo train dangled silently above the growing pile of supplies, ready to transfer the cargo to the hold of the Tajji Flame once the inner doors were shut. The crates themselves were old and worn, battered with long use and protracted exposure to cosmic radiation—perfectly ordinary, in other words. The docking manifest declared their contents to be generic manufactured goods, such as electronics and component parts. A passing authority wouldn’t suspect a thing.
That was exactly the way Danica wanted it.
She stepped away from the window, hands clasped behind her back. When she came to the door at the end of the room, she stepped through into a drab, industrial corridor. Roman stood waiting for her, along with a short, stout man dressed in civilian workclothes. He had a dark Fu Manchu mustache and a largely receded hairline. Other than the three of them, the corridor was empty.
“Hello, Balthazar,” she said, walking up to the short man. He smiled and offered his hand.
“Everything is progressing according to your satisfaction, I trust?”
She nodded. “Is the software upgrade complete?”
“Yes.”
“And we can expect full payment when we return?”
“Of course,” said Balthazar. “All fifteen million Gaian credits worth.”
“We won’t take payment in credits,” said Danica. At the rate the war was going, those credits wouldn’t be worth an honest man’s wages in six months.
“Of course, of course,” said Balthazar. “In that case, we can pay in your choice of basic commodity—at pre-invasion price levels, no less.”
“Good.” She turned to Roman, who stood by her side. “Roman, get back to the ship and prepare for departure. I want everyone on board and ready to leave within the hour.”
“Acknowledged, Captain.” He gave her a brisk salute and walked off.
“When can we expect you to deliver the Catriona?” the man asked in a hushed voice once Roman was gone.
“Before the end of next month,” said Danica. “We can’t guarantee anything before then.”
“Understandable,” said Balthazar. He smiled a little, more to himself than anything. “But tell me, captain,” he said, “why request such an unusual advance? Software and weapons upgrades for your fighter drones, that I can understand, but half-meter ball bearings?”
He glanced up at her, waiting for some kind of answer.
“Simply business,” she said.
“Yes, yes, of course. I understand completely. I am only a simple businessman, after all—I mean no offense by asking. However, if I had the opportunity to expand my reach, perhaps with your illustrious employers…”
Danica said nothing.
“Times are hard, captain,” Balthazar said,
“even for the underground market. My niche of expertise has fallen out of demand; the Hameji repair and upgrade their own ships. Forgive me for my impertinence, but I’m sure you understand.”
“Very well. We’re working for an out-of-system smuggling operation,” she lied. “They’re a bit skittish about contacting new clients directly, though—that’s why they hired us to make their supply runs.”
“Indeed,” said Balthazar, smiling again. “Well then, I hope we can look forward to doing business in the future.”
“So do I, Balthazar,” said Danica.
They shook hands and parted.
* * * * *
James was one of the first to return to the Tajji Flame. When he stepped onto the bridge, Danica and Ilya were the only ones present. Out the forward window, the featureless gray clouds of Kardunash IV stared ominously up at him.
“Welcome back, Ensign,” said Danica, nodding at him from behind her chair. “It’s good to see you again.”
“Have you found anything on Ben or Stella?”
“As a matter of fact, we have.”
James’s heart surged. “You have?”
“Yes,” said Danica, her voice perfectly calm. “Please, have a seat.”
James hardly heard her. “How are they? Where did you find them?”
“Ensign,” Danica said, gesturing for him to calm down. Behind her, Ilya chuckled. James lowered himself to his post, sitting on the edge of his seat.
“I’ll give you the full briefing once we’ve left,” Danica said, still standing. “However, I think Ayvazyan can fill you in on the pertinent details.” She nodded to Ilya.
“Right,” said Ilya, swiveling to face him. “While you and the others were out enjoying your furlough, I autotranslated almost six hundred gigs of data to find this match with your sister’s medical records.”
He pressed a few keys on one of his keyboards and brought up a file on James’s terminal. The writing was horribly jumbled—the autotranslators must have encountered an obscure dialect that wasn’t in their immediate database. James skimmed the document and brought up the images attached with the file.
He gasped. On the screen, Stella’s face stared at him.
His vision blurred, and his body began to shake. The ambient sounds of the ship faded as he stared at the image of his sister. She looked frightened and lost—and horribly, terribly vulnerable.
“Where is she?”
“As I was saying,” Ilya continued, “after meticulously combing the data some five times, I found this file in the medical records of some ship called the Tenguri Lion. It seems to be the flagship of the Hameji fleet maintaining this system.”
“The flagship?” James said, tearing his eyes from the screen. “Why would they keep her on their flagship?”
“Same reason they’d keep her alive at all,” said Ilya. “As a sex slave to the Hameji overlord, General Qasar.”
A sex slave?
James’s stomach dropped. Blood rushed to his cheeks, and his fingers clenched into fists almost of their own accord.
“What are they doing to her?” he hissed.
“Keeping her alive,” Danica said, “and taking care of her health, whatever else. Be happy she isn’t dead.”
James’s vision clouded again, this time with rage. He turned to Danica, the knuckles in his fists turning white.
“We need to save her,” he said. “Now!”
“Control yourself, Ensign,” said Danica. “We won’t do anything until we have a clear, workable plan.”
“But—but they’re raping her!”
“And they’ll rape us too if we aren’t careful. How will you help your sister then? Bide your time, Ensign—you’re no good to her dead.”
James forced himself to calm down. It took every ounce of his willpower.
“All right,” he said. “But as soon as—”
“I’ll thank you to take orders rather than give them, Ensign. Is that clear?”
James glowered. “Yes, Captain,” he said.
“Good.”
He turned to the window and stared down at the dead world. The enormous Hameji warships orbited the slagged planet like a dragon guarding its spoils.
Whoever this Qasar is, James told himself, I’m going to kill him.
Chapter 15
“Borta is dead?”
“That’s right, dear.”
Stella lurched and collapsed onto the pile of pillows on the couch. A wave of dizziness passed through her, giving her a headache. Tamu slipped off the bed and sat down next to her.
“What’s the matter?” Tamu asked, reaching out to rub her back. “You look awful, honey. Here, take a deep breath—that’s right. Relax.”
Stella closed her eyes and focused on her breathing. Her muscles unknotted and went limp under Tamu’s touch, releasing the tension in her body that Stella had started to take for granted.
Borta is dead, Stella reflected. That means I’m safe. She isn’t going to kill me.
But who killed her?
Stella sat up and turned to face her roommate. “Tamu—what’s going on?”
“No one knows, dear,” said Tamu. “Borta was found dead in her quarters sometime last night. A little after, the soldiers came and sent us all to our rooms. That’s all I know—all any of us know, really.”
“How long ago did this happen?”
Tamu hesitated for a second—only a second, but long enough for Stella to notice.
“At least a couple hours ago, dear. Didn’t Qasar tell you?”
“No,” Stella said carefully. “When I woke up, he was gone. He must have left while I was asleep.”
“Slept in late, didn’t you? You must have had a busy night.”
Stella sighed and shook her head. “I didn’t sleep with him, if that’s what you’re talking about.”
“Are you sure, dear? Maybe you just don’t remember it. The pill—”
“I didn’t take the pill.”
Tamu frowned. “You didn’t?”
“No.”
Stella fell back against the pillows, her mind spinning in circles. “Borta’s dead,” she wondered aloud. “What happens now?”
“Well, honey, I expect Qasar will find the traitor and execute him. That’s what they usually do to criminals.”
“Execute him? Why? Don’t the Hameji have—”
“Prisons?” Tamu said, completing her thought. “No, dear, Hameji ships have no prisons. Capital punishment is so much more efficient.”
Stella shuddered and frowned. “But how are they going to find the murderer?” she asked. “Who would want Borta—”
The answer came to her like an explosion. She bolted upright on the couch, her blood running cold.
“Oh my stars,” she cried. “No!”
“What is it, Sholpan? What’s the matter?”
“Narju,” said Stella, leaping to her feet. “Where is he?”
* * * * *
“Ah, hello Ensign. Please come in.”
James stepped into Danica’s richly decorated private quarters. Steam rose from a micropercolator on a side table, filling the air with the smell of fresh coffee. Danica had set out two ceramic mugs on arabesque coasters.
“Have a seat,” Danica said, showing him to the couch. “Care for some coffee?”
“Sure.” James didn’t care one way or the other.
Danica poured them both a mug and took her seat. She sipped her coffee for a moment, closing her eyes to savor it before turning to him.
“Now that we’ve got solid intel on your sister,” she said, “we can start to plan the extraction.”
You mean how to save her, James thought to himself. She’s not a target to be extracted—she’s my sister.
“The way I’m thinking,” Danica continued, “we’ll have to capture a Hameji shuttle—one that’s been cleared on their network—and use that to fly into the Tenguri Lion. I’m not going to risk the Tajji Flame, especially when we’ll only need about four people at most in the
extraction team.”
“I’m coming along,” James blurted. “She’s my sister. I want to be there when you go in.”
“Duly noted. That’s step fifteen or twenty-five, though. We’re still stuck on step one.”
“How to capture a Hameji shuttle?”
“Yes.”
James thought for a moment. “Why don’t we just use the Catriona?” he asked. “Ilya could hack into their network and get the clearance codes, and we could fly in on that.”
Danica paused to take a sip of her coffee. “Two reasons, Ensign. First, I doubt we could disguise the Catriona as a Hameji vessel. The Hameji customize their ships to the point that no two of them are alike—each is a unique blend of art and engineering.”
“But we can still do it—it’s not impossible.”
“That’s not the only reason, Ensign. You’re forgetting that the Catriona is our collateral for this mission—our deposit. If we were to lose her, how would you pay us?”
“But Captain,” said James, “we’ve got to save her. Can’t you see? She needs our help.”
“I understand your feelings, Ensign, but business is business. I’m not running a charity organization—I’m running a professional private military outfit.”
Business? James thought angrily to himself. She’s my sister, dammit!
Danica set down her mug and leaned forward. “Let me be frank, Ensign. Some of my men think that this mission is far too dangerous, and that we should pull out now while we still can. To be honest, I half-agree with them. I want to help you—I really do—but I have an obligation to my men that comes before that.”
James glared at her in disbelief. “So that’s what it comes down to?” he cried. “We’ve come all this way, and now you’re going to give up and send me off. Is that it?”
Danica said nothing.
“Or is this about the money?” he continued, his cheeks reddening with anger. “Money’s all you care about, isn’t it? You’re just a bunch of leeches trying to bleed me dry.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Danica muttered.
