by C. C. Ekeke
Gaorr, his younger brother and second in line, stood tall and chiseled at their mother’s side. He wore the finest charcoal grey and copper robes of Pallanorian silk, of course. His dark hair was held up in intricate braids that bowed out in fantastical loops.
Taorr’s eyes then found Taorr the Greater, aka The Maorridius Magnus. He wore the broad-shouldered ceremonial robes befitting his rank, steel grey and radiant blue. That barely hid how much he’d aged since Taorr last saw him, and now used a cane to walk. The Ttaunz masked his concern, knowing how his father hated weakness. Even though Maorridius Magnus’s pelt hung loosely off withered limbs, his familiar iron will was evident in every gesture.
The title of Maorridius came from the Ttaunz ruler who had formed the star-spanning Ttaunz Supremacy three millennia ago. Now the title was bestowed on every Ttaunz ruler since.
And after his father passed from this mortal coil, Taorr would become the next Maorridius Magnus.
Not that I want that, Taorr knew with every fiber of his being. Just like he knew he could never marry Uarya, his betrothed for so many years.
“Taorr. Pleased to see you washed before greeting us.” his father greeted, as if they’d spoken last night instead of almost two years ago before he fell gravely ill. The Ttaunz ruler approached, giving his eldest son a stern onceover. “That crumply outfit must go.” he gestured scornfully at him.
“Father.” Taorr embraced his father, not caring about traditions. “Faroor has missed you. As have I.”
Once he released his surprised father, Lady Naejjo approached. “Taorr, my eldest,” she crowed in singsong tones. “To see your face again is like the purest sunrise!”
Mother and her hyperbole. Taorr wanted to hug her, but her body language tensed away from him. So he held her hands and bowed politely. The tears in her eyes told the story of Lady Naejjo’s joy.
Gaorr stayed put, giving his brother a stiff bow. Taorr did the same, noticing the bruises coloring his face just under the pinkish pelt. Gaorr ignored his questioning look.
Later, then, little brother. Taorr would repair their relationship, even if it killed him.
After pleasantries about his well-being and condemnations on Ghuj’aega were exchanged, Taorr cleared his throat. “Lady Naejjo. Maorridius Magnus. I am honored and humbled to return. But there are urgent matters to discuss. About Uarya and the line of succession.”
“Yes,” Maorridius Magnus nodded curtly, “we will discuss that now.” The doors that Taorr had entered reopened. In walked a slim, beautiful Ttaunz highborn with a carroty pelt. She wore a skimpy creamy liquid dress that reached her feet, her cropped ginger coif spiked in several directions. An older highborn male trailed behind her dressed in crimson, violet, and green robes. His long, orangey locks were done up in a series of topknots.
Taorr had known them since childhood. “Uarya. Uaros.”
His betrothed and her father of House Ipmas, Faroor’s most powerful merchant family behind Taorr’s. He hadn’t expected them this soon.
Uarya ran to him with long, graceful strides. “Beloved! I was so worried for you.”
“I am alive and well. Hello.” Taorr bowed respectfully to Uarya’s father.
Uaros was tall and lean like his daughter. Fierceness radiated off him like waves of heat. “Hello, youngling.” After returning Taorr’s bow, his pleasantness vanished. “I swear, with all the resources at House Ipmas’s disposal, Ghuj’aega will pay for his crimes. As will every Farooqua tribe supporting him!”
“Sure.” Taorr wanted this dialogue over before it began. “I need more time with my family before I speak with you.”
“Uarya and Uaros are family,” Maorridius reprimanded Taorr coldly. “And in three days, it will be official.”
Taorr was lost. Glancing around the room, everyone clearly knew something he didn’t. “What happens in three days?”
“Our wedlock!” Uarya draped her arms around his neck, smiling. “You and I become one.”
Taorr’s jaw dropped. He glared at his father and mother. Lady Naejjo answered promptly, “After your rescue, we and Uaros agreed. No more delays. You marry Uarya immediately.”
Taorr’s heart sank into his belly. Images of life for the next several decades bombarded his brain.
The loveless marriage.
The unwanted reign.
The endless politicking to keep overpampered merchant families happy.
Taorr took another look at the joyous faces crafting a future where he was just a passenger. A future Taorr didn’t want.
And he could do nothing to prevent that…
…until the Ttaunz heir remembered Mhir’ujiid’s love, her touch, her voice, her strength. Determination filled Taorr up to the brim. He gently removed Uarya’s arms from his neck and stepped back. “No.” One single quiet word to cut himself free.
Gaorr’s eyes narrowed in disgust. He understood his brother’s insinuation. His mother, father, and Uarya didn’t. “No, you want more time before the matrimony?” the Magnus corrected.
“No,” Taorr retorted. “I will not marry Uarya.”
And the room hushed. His betrothed staggered back, covering her outraged mouth with long, delicate fingers.
His mother gawked. His father’s gaunt face was a study in fury. Uarya’s surprise quickly became chilling hatred. Uaros looked ready to murder Taorr.
Now Taorr wanted to be anywhere but here. But Maorridius Magnus would never respect him if he retreated. The Ttaunz forced himself to stand in the ugly tension he had birthed. It will only get worse before I finish.
Uarya’s father recovered first. “Ghuj’aega’s torture clearly addled his brain.”
“His brain was addled long ago,” Gaorr interjected. A look from Maorridius Magnus shut his younger brother’s mouth.
“Why,” Uaros continued, pointing at his seething daughter, “why would you possibly not want to marry my beautiful, untarnished daughter?”
Untarnished?! Have you met her? Taorr almost said. But Uaros might actually kill him for that honesty. Taorr tilted his chin up in defiance to speak again, knowing there was no coming back in Ttaunz culture from his next words. “I love someone else. A Farooqua from the Quud Tribe.”
The room erupted in screams as soon as Taorr said “Farooqua.”
Chapter 6
“To reiterate.” Captain Samantha D’Urso caught her charging opponent in a tight headlock—right before hip-tossing him down, then landing on his chest with all her weight. Sweat drenched her toned and shapely frame, but she barely felt exerted. “You suspect Addison Raichoudry is secretly working for the Children of Earth, and sabotaging our operation against them?”
“Correct,” gasped Surje, her downed opponent.
The wiry Voton’s hairless red body flickered deep crimson from exhaustion. Even the three rounded grey crests atop his head seemed lackluster. The Star Brigade field commander and her intelligence officer were up for a morning sparring session in HLHG Suite 3, surrounded by neon blue glowing walls.
They both stayed up most of last night, dissecting Surje’s new suspicions of their teammate’s loyalties. After grabbing barely two orvs sleep, a hard workout was essential to clear her head.
Sam bounced to her feet and hauled Surje up with her. Her blonde locks were pulled back tight and away from her face. She combined a grey racerback sports bra with black spacedye workout tights sitting just under her flat, tattooed belly, both fitting like a second skin.
Surje straightened his posture, standing over four inches taller. The yellow cut-off shirt and matching fight shorts flattered the Voton’s spare and lithe physique.
“Even though,” Sam took a fighting stance with fists raised, gesturing for Surje to do the same, “Addison was thoroughly vetted after her undercover CoE assignment ended six months ago?” She weaved swiftly around the Voton’s flurry of punches, getting inside his guard.
“Correct— OOPH!” Surje was doubled over by Sam’s hard elbow to his belly. He quickly backpedaled.
“Your punches look good. Just tighten your stance more,” Sam instructed. “Protects you from counterattacks like that.” She moved in for another attack as Surje tightened his bearing. The response secretly pleased her. As CT-2’s field commander and Star Brigade’s spymaster, Sam was Surje’s superior officer on two fronts. She hadn’t given him as much guidance as Khal Al Abdullah in the past. With the Voton on her CT, Sam was striving to correct that oversight.
Currently she was revisiting every detail of his suspicions. If Raichoudry was a traitor, they needed unassailable facts before commencing any investigation. To further safeguard their conversation, Sam had this session masked by top-level privacy mode so no one else could listen in or watch. “When did you begin doubting Addison’s loyalties?” She sailed in low with more elbow strikes.
The Voton went left, blocking one strike, then another. “Last month. After the current Children of Earth operation started,” he replied in his staccato style of talking.
“But,” Sam sidestepped Surje’s high knee, which nearly struck her jaw. Nice! “You were her loudest advocate before and right after her extraction.”
“Correct.” The Voton directed some quick jabs at Sam’s face, landing one before she ducked and dodged the rest. “Things changed.”
“Relax. You’re beyond stiff,” Sam chided, then switched topics. “What changed?”
“Two months after Addie returned, Captain Nwosu put her on medical leave,” Surje dropped low, “since her PTSD from the mission became so bad.” With a startling burst of speed, he tackled Sam to the ground. The Voton mounted her with fist drawn back.
Already a step ahead, she bridged her hips to toss him overhead with a leg throw. Surje landed a few feet away with a grunt.
Sam’s memories drifted toward Raichoudry’s initial return. Back then, Addison rarely left her quarters except to meet with her therapist or Habraum. “We monitored her movement while she was on sabbatical,” Sam recalled, standing up. “Addison mostly stayed on the travel itinerary Habraum made for her until she returned to Hollus.”
“The PTSD was gone.” Surje was already upright, but unsteady. “She wants to be a team player. No explanation other than needing the space.” One of many commendable things about Surje was his adherence to gleaning over the tiniest minutiae and seeing where they led. “You know how much Addie loves discussing. Details and facts.”
Sam’s expression soured. “I noticed that.”
“At first I was happy. For APR—sorry, Addison,” Surje corrected. The nickname using Addison’s initials had been popularized by Surje and Khrome. “Then came her constant sucking up to Captain Nwosu. Running secret errands for him.”
She definitely tried sucking something, Sam bristled. But Surje didn’t need to know that. “Continue.”
“One night during CT-2’s training on Cobalt Waystation,” Surje went on. The pair weren’t even pretending to spar anymore. “Addie was speaking with Jan’Hax and I. Stupid small talk. Next time I saw her, she denied even seeing us. Not to mention her obstinacy with you since joining CT-2. I prayed to the Living Light my growing doubts were imagined.”
God. Not that Living Light shit, Sam fought back an eye roll as Surje continued.
“After that was our Children of Earth moles. One’s exposed and killed. The other drops off the radar. All too coincidental. The final straw was the scatter pattern of those encrypted messages I told you about last night. A technique she uses.”
The Voton continued, his skin glowing deep red with anger, “All her leads on the Children of Earth paramilitary from her collected databanks are now ice-cold.” Sam couldn’t deny the mounting evidence against Raichoudry, whom Habraum had personally vouched for. But the Cerc had also recruited a Cybernarr whose presence remained a constant threat to Star Brigade’s existence.
Surje shrugged after he finished. “We didn’t thoroughly vet her loyalties. Neither did I.”
“Guess not,” Sam agreed, angrier than she cared to show. Despite extensive background checks by Star Brigade, UComm, and even Lethe via telepathy, Addison Raichoudry’s fidelity was again uncertain. She sucked on her teeth in annoyance…exactly how Habraum would have. The action made her both nostalgic for him and furious at him.
“I gave extra vetting to Khal,” she admitted. “He was the one who returned Addison to Hollus when her sabbatical concluded.” Khal guaranteed me Addison was clean. Sam had indulged him too much, too often. If Addison was a traitor, Sam would kick Khal’s ass all over Hollus Maddrone when CT-1 returned—then pull him off active duty.
“Hmmph,” Surje scoffed. Despite the Voton’s devout and friendly nature, the acrimony between him and Khal remained unsettled. “No wonder things were missed. If you know what I mean—”
“I know what you mean,” Sam snapped, tired of discussing this. “Decrypt those messages and find out whom she’s speaking with. If Addison is dirty, get unshakeable proof.”
“Already on it.” The Voton nodded, his body glowing with more confidence. “The decryption. But that will take time, even using our best data-slicing programs.”
“Not good enough,” Sam declared, unsatisfied. “We need that decryption by tomorrow. And without her discovering she’s been made, sir.”
Later, Sam was freshly showered and wearing a figure-hugging magnezip hoodie with matching sweatpants of velvety dark green kurthon. She stood in the ObDeck, the room equipped with sizeable viewscreens displaying inside all six HLHG Suites. Sam’s attention zeroed in on the viewscreen for HLHG 4, its lone occupant performing an insane cardio routine.
A series of massive floating red blocks stretched to the other side of the HLHG Suite, shifting, rising, and dropping positions, never remaining in one place for longer than a few moments.
Sam made a face, threading her fingers through stringy blonde locks.
Yet Raichoudry kept finding the straightest path through the ever-moving obstacle course—leaping, climbing, rolling, flipping, and vaulting over any impediment. One box moved as she pounced for it. Instead of falling several feet to the floor, she kicked off the box’s edge to catch the top edge of another box rising up and scaling its length like a spider. She sprinted across the surface, pounced onto a plummeting box. Raichoudry turned that momentum into two somersault rolls across its surface. Bounding from her roll, she bounced off a box sliding right to another plummeting down without any pause.
By the time she landed on the other side, the woman was soaked in sweat but smugly satisfied.
Addison Priyanka Raichoudry, tech officer for CT- 2. Sam eyed the young earthborn up and down, impressed despite herself. This was her fourth consecutive completion of that obstacle course, utilizing the techniques of yamakasi with expert-level finesse. Addison was petite yet athletic and compact in physique, her workout gear matching the raven-black hair she pulled back with a tight knot and headband.
The ObDeck viewscreen exposed how flushed Raichoudry’s coppery complexion was from exertion, and a puffy bruise around her right eye. Sam smirked, having derived great pleasure in delivering that painful lesson in humility.
Truth be told, she actually wanted someone as talented as Raichoudry on CT-2. That was, minus the know-it-all unfriendliness, insufferable arrogance, and kissing Habraum’s ass.
But Addison’s possible treachery, those issues couldn’t be ignored.
Is she still with the Children of Earth? That question should have been answered five months ago. Sam squeezed her eyes shut, considering the consequences. This meant Raichoudry had compromised Star Brigade and UniPol’s entire operation against the Children of Earth. And as a master data-slicer who could breach many secure data systems without a trace, who knew how much intel Raichoudry had fed the CoE after returning to the Brigade? It would explain why CoE paramilitary bases had gone dark mere days ago. Then there was her teleportation ability. Trained by both Habraum and Marguliese, Raichoudry had increased her teleporting speed, range, and stamina, becoming formidable in warfare—and to oth
er Brigadiers. Sam bristled, having experienced this firsthand weeks ago.
Or Raichoudry could be innocent. She opened her eyes. On the HLHG4 viewscreen, Addison had restarted the obstacle course, jumping, vaulting, and rolling across the shifting blocks in the opposite direction. If Addison was innocent, which Sam sincerely hoped, that meant a possible CoE mole was still on Hollus Maddrone. And with the starbase’s hundreds of human personnel, who knew if Star Brigade could locate the threat in time?
The specter of failure heavily weighed on Sam’s shoulders. A field commander’s XO, the power behind the power, was a position she’d thrived in. The field commander position exposed a slew of burdens Sam never expected—like possible treason in her CT.
The ObDeck entrance slid open with a hiss, drawing Sam’s attention from the HLHG viewscreens.
Jan’Hax, CT-2’s recon officer, strutted in with a lazy smirk on his duck-billed mouth. The Ciphereen’s smirk revealed more puckishness and a little sleaziness than arrogance. The gangly limbed Jan’Hax was the tallest six-foot-two that Sam had ever seen, hairless and with mottled green skin.
Sam sucked in a breath, but quickly regained composure. “Jan’Hax, hullo!”
“Salutations, Samantha,” Jan’Hax returned her greeting. Despite his easygoing swagger, the wrinkled fatigue around his eyes was evident when he reached her side.
She turned back to the HLHG4 viewscreen. “Anything?”
“None.” Jan’Hax shook his head, sounding as frustrated as Sam felt. “Addison gave me a wealth of intel. Some led to older CoE paramilitary bases we already scanned. Took another sweep. All are abandoned.”
Sam gave a humorless smile. “Of course they’re abandoned.” Unsurprising. She’d threatened Addison’s position on CT-2 unless the tech produced something useful from the databanks collected during her undercover assignment. Much of it was clearly outdated.
Or, Sam’s suspicions churned, she fed Star Brigade useless info to keep us off track?
Jan’Hax clearly sensed her disquiet. “More trouble between you and Addie?” He’d always had a talent for that.
