by C. C. Ekeke
Addison stiffened. “I already started on her,” she complained.
Of course you want to handle it yourself. “And now your teammate will help you,” Sam snapped.
For a moment, Addison looked ready to protest further. Instead, she gave Sam a blank, compliant look. “Yes, Captain.” She pivoted and marched off the bridge with her stiff-shouldered gait.
Sam watched her go, then exchanged a knowing look with Surje as he followed his teammate.
If Europa had compromised UniPol, then Sam knew what had to happen. And what had to happen wouldn’t be pretty. Or lawful.
“Jan’Hax,” she addressed the lanky Ciphereen. “Grab a detailed profile on Europa Hanson. Homes, hobbies, habits, daily routine, and transit routes in her day. I’ll need that at light-speed. Then grab full profiles on every Kingston Reyes contact.”
“You got it.” Jan’Hax reached his bridge workstation in three strides, sitting and getting to work.
“Bev.” Sam turned to her towering second-in-command, “you’re in charge till I return.”
“Where are you heading?” Bevrolor asked.
A mischievous lopsided grin tugged at Sam’s lips. “To do something bad, so we get something good.”
The Nubrideen’s three eyes narrowed. “Does Bevrolor even want to know?”
Sam pondered this while heading for the bridge exit. “Maybe not.” Probable deniability was best in this instance. “Forward all UniPol communications directly to me.” Normally, Bevrolor handling UniPol communications made more sense. Her XO once served in UniPol’s Nubree branch. But with their UniPol liaison’s potential treason, Sam wanted to handle this herself.
If that bothered Bevrolor, she never showed it. “What about CT-1 transmissions?”
Sam stopped, almost repeating her previous order. CT-1 was still so present for Sam. She ached for real details on their status beyond capturing Ghuj’aega.
Not until this UniPol leak is plugged. “You handle that. Contact me only if the sky is falling.”
With that, Sam finally headed for a Shadowlancer jet in Phaeton’s cargo hold.
Once her shuttle launched from the Phaeton, Sam sent an encoded message to Surje. “Updates?”
Two macroms passed before he replied. “Three more messages. One verified as Addison, sent to Captain Nwosu’s personal TransNet account. Two unverified, first sent an orv before our mission. Another during the trip to Alorum.”
Sam furrowed her brow. Why was Raichoudry contacting Habraum? Probably tattle-telling on me for punching her out, she recalled with a flicker of annoyance. Not important. “If Addison is dirty, we need a mountain of insurmountable evidence as well as who she’s communicating with. There can be no room for error. We thought Raichoudry was clean before.”
“Understood,” was the Voton’s reply.
Sam typed the needed commands into her naviconsole for a hyperspace jump. The surrounding forest of stars stretched into glowing streaks going on forever. Later, Sam changed into proper work attire: a dark sensor-deflecting catsuit essential for infiltration and extraction. Her next task required it.
Less than half an orv remained until she reached Calliste. Sam sent a quick audio-only message to the moon’s Korvenite Living facilities and her personal assistant/fixer Jhori. “Need you for a mission. Meet me at the southeast flight bays.”
With that done, Sam replayed Khal Al Abdullah’s message. Already annoyed at his possible faulty vetting of Addison, she was further riled how Khal’s message didn’t mention Habraum. Even worse, the Cerc hadn’t reached out in almost two days outside of some generic status update from a remote Farooqua city.
She didn’t like that one bit. Yes, their last communication had been awkward and ended abruptly. But that had been personal…and still smarted.
Professional radio silence wasn’t like Habraum. Even a month ago, when she sat out a mission so Tyris got a test run as XO, Habraum maintained constant contact. Did something happen to him or another teammate?
Worried, she sent a quick private transmission. “It’s me. Haven’t heard from you recently. Contact me or Bevrolor with updates. Please.”
She ended the transmission with a heavy sigh, shuttering all Habraum baggage faraway into the back of her brain. Right then, an incoming transmission flashed on her naviconsole.
Lethe. Sam flinched, knowing why he was calling.
“Not now.” She waved the transmission straight to unread. The Tharydane dilemma had to wait…for now.
Sam broke from hyperspace just outside Calliste’s gravity well, endless streams of light coalescing into twinkling dots scattered across pitch-black nothingness.
Terra Sollus’s largest moon dominated her viewscreen, a massive brown, yellow, and white sphere. She was on Calliste’s nightside, with Terra Sollus a faraway blue and green marble in the background.
Sam broke through Calliste’s paper-thin atmosphere, steering her Shadowlancer toward the Korvenite facilities.
However, blaring warnings from surface flight control directed her to reroute toward the northern flight bays, despite having high-level clearance.
“What the literal fuck?” she growled, but did as instructed.
While landing, Sam watched Calliste’s artificial orange sunset and spied the reason she’d been rerouted. An AeroFleet escort of Guardian-Class hammerhead frigates swarmed over the south flight bays.
Sam’s attention zeroed in on the smallest vessel surrounded by the escort: a modified Liberator-Class corvette, angular lines of gold detailing the divisions in its obsidian black hull. Small enough for speed and maneuvering, but packing enough firepower to level a small city-state.
Sam felt her face drain of color. That was AeroFleet Alpha, call sign for the AeroFleet spacecraft carrying the Union Chouncilor.
Ari Bogosian, who resided mostly on Calliste to help the Korvenites find a new homeworld, was no longer Chouncilor. He had resigned in disgrace after the Battle of Terra Sollus.
Which meant Morje’Huijadan, interim Union Chouncilor, was present on the Korvenite living facilities. Given the former Vice Chouncilor’s public struggles to fix up the mess that Bogosian left behind, Sam doubted this visit was friendly. She should mind her own business, grab Jhori and go. But, according to her naviconsole, Jan’Hax had yet to deliver Europa Hanson’s profile package. Meaning she had time to be nosy…
“Jhori,” she messaged the Korvenite directly. “Change of plans. Meet me in the northwest flight bays in twenty.”
She connected with the vid systems outside of Ari’s lofty office door. As expected, Honor Guardsmen stood outside the door in all their light armor and masked glory. Former Chouncilors received Honor Guard protection the rest of their lives.
However, this was quadruple the normal amount. So Sam waited. And waited…
When the doors finally slid open, a Voton stormed out, above average height and well dressed in his gunmetal grey executive suit. Two whitish rounded ridges topped his hairless head, anger sparkling across his emerald complexion. Three-quarters of the Honor Guard trailed after him, along with a handful of aides.
Sam cringed. “Not good.” The black corvette hovering overhead pulled away from the living facilities a few macroms later, flanked on all sides by its menacing escort. Soon, they zoomed up and out of sight.
Sam exited her jet and sprinted for the nearest translifter. As soon as she reached Ari’s office, Sam burst inside. Thankfully Ari was alone, leaning against the round, massive center staff table. The past several months hadn’t been kind to Ari weight-wise. But whatever just occurred between him and Morje had visibly sucked the life out of him.
“Ari?”
He barely acknowledged Sam’s entrance.
“Ari,” she repeated, standing in front of him.
The former Chouncilor met her gaze, surprised at her presence. “Hey.”
Sam gave a quick, cautious smile. “Hi.”
He eyed her catsuit and frowned. “What are you wearing?”
; “Work clothes.” Sam studied him thoughtfully. His business casual button-down and slacks looked rumpled, the salt-and-pepper stubble on his cheeks returning. Clearly he hadn’t slept since the Senate Committee struck down his bill to obtain a Korvenite homeworld. “Why was the Vice…sorry… Chouncilor here?”
“He finally answered my calls,” Bogosian replied, as if speaking about a storewide sale. “They’re voting him out.”
Sam immediately guessed who “they” were. “The Bicameral’s approving a no-confidence vote?”
The former Chouncilor nodded. “Chamber of Delegates already voted. Union Senate’s expected to vote the same way tomorrow.”
Sam shook her head and plopped down next to Ari. “Christ…”
“Morje told me the hard truth,” Bogosian continued. “The Union-Imperium Trade Merger was always a bad idea. The Korvenite attack was my fault; my resignation only helped me while my old administration was left holding the bag.” Ari turned to Sam, looking so wounded. “Morje never wanted to be Chouncilor. He just wanted to serve his Union, follow my lead. I’ve ruined his career. He said he’ll never forgive me. And not in those polite terms.”
Ari’s gaze fell, along with a few tears. “Add that to the list of beings I’ve let down, and not even getting the Korvenite bill—”
“Hey.” Sam placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “This isn’t over. The Korvenite vote. The no-confidence referendum. They’re just setbacks.” The words tasted hollow on her tongue. But yet again, Bogosian needed a cheerleader.
Ari pushed to his feet, shaking his shaggy head stubbornly. “It’s been setback after setback for six months!”
“And you expected a smooth ride?” Sam threw back. “The Galactic Union’s capital world was attacked on your watch, regardless whose fault it was.” Yours, but she withheld that last part. “You’ll have time to help the Korvenites rebuild their communities and showcase their progress.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Ari shot the encouragement down. He walked away from Sam and the table. “The Transplanetary League is growing impatient. They’re pushing for the Terra Sollus relocation.”
Sam’s features hardened. “That shit again?” The Transplanetary League for Sentient Rights, the nonprofit consortium backing Ari’s philanthropy, had wanted property reparations on Terra Sollus for the Korvenites.
Knowing that was impossible, Ari had convinced them a new homeworld was more feasible. And now that Bogosian’s bill proposal was DOA…
“I’m too radioactive.” He stopped as his shoulders slumped, looking so defeated it hurt. “I should take a more supporting role until things calm down.”
Sam stopped listening as Ari rambled on. Mainly because she couldn’t believe her ears. The Trade Merger implosion, the Terra Sollus attacks, his resignation and separating from his moneygrubbing spouse had left Ari a broken man. Sam had known that for months.
But running like a coward when things got hard and the Korvenites needed him most?
She shot upright, seething. “No,” her sharp, hoarse word silenced Bogosian’s blather.
He wheeled around at her audacity. “Excuse you?”
“You heard me.” Sam held firm, getting right in his face. “After the Battle of Terra Sollus and the Trade Merger collapse, you had to resign. There’s no way you could’ve remained Chouncilor and been effective. Exit another high-profile position, and you’ll forever be a laughingstock.” I’ll guarantee it.
Her words struck like physical blows. Bogosian swayed a little.
Sam grabbed his chin, forcing their gazes to meet. “What did you promise when I signed on for this?”
Ari paled. “I will honor my promise to the Korvenites.” He cleared his throat. “To find them a new homeworld…wherever that is.”
“Exactly.” Sam expected—no, demanded—better from the former Chouncilor. Without him, the Korvenites had little chance at getting a homeworld. Sam’s beautiful, beloved Tharydane wouldn’t get a homeworld. “Don’t get weak on me, Ari.” She didn’t bother hiding her contempt.
“I’m not!” Bogosian gaped at her. “Just…had a moment. Forgive me.” He placed contrite fingers on her hand holding his chin.
Those fingers began caressing her wrist. And Bogosian’s eyes were crawling all over her.
Sam’s stomach clenched, recognizing the desperate need in his eyes.
She kept her expression plain, curling her hand into a fist and yanking it away. “Later. We’ll finish this later.” Her voice sounded thick and throaty. “Don’t do anything stupid until then.”
Before Ari could reply, Sam whirled and fled the room through the doorway she’d entered.
Jhori was waiting outside her Shadowlancer. His shorn purple hair contrasted perfectly with his alabaster skin. He and Sam exchanged silent nods before they boarded.
Once in the pilot seat, Sam noticed a transmission from Jan’Hax. She grinned and opened Europa Hanson’s profile on the mainscreen. Every transmission between her and that traitorous M’Kuvuh, scrawls of data exhaustively covering Hanson’s frequented locations and daily routine. “Finally, a win.” Jan’Hax had done good work.
Sam punched in coordinates to Terra Sollus and piloted the Shadowlancer off from the flight bay. She sighed while searching for a gap in Hanson’s schedule, which looked beyond airtight.
If Star Brigade couldn’t discover the Children of Earth’s scheme, Sam knew nothing Bogosian did for the Korvenites would matter.
Where to? Jhori asked telepathically, sliding into the passenger’s seat beside Sam.
“We’re kidnapping someone,” she replied cheerfully, finding the perfect gap in Hanson’s schedule today.
The lean Korvenite youth studied her and shrugged. Okay.
Chapter 15
Taorr lay sprawled on his creamy-white gelatinous couch floating just off the ground. It molded to accommodate his body, easing his physical aches. Not his mental woes. Those came from returning to Magnasterium and his family.
Taorr winced, wishing he didn’t recall every threat, every insult. Now the heir to the Magnal Throne couldn’t help mulling over how he could have better approached ending his matrimony to Uarya.
The argument with his family and Uarya’s father had persisted for orvs. Taorr had fought with everything he had for his freedom.
At the foot of the lofty Magnal Throne, the battle over Taorr’s love life had grown more ugly and vicious than Star Brigade’s battle with Ghuj’aega’s Ghebrekh.
Taorr had expected anger and threats from his father, the Maorridius Magnus. He had expected mockery and hatred from Gaorr. He had even accounted for Uaros, Uarya’s father, wanting to beat some sense into him in rather uncivilized fashion. He hadn’t expected Uarya’s silence, or his mother’s verbal castration.
“In love? With a Farooqua?” Lady Naejjo’s gorgeous features had contorted with such fury. His mother being the more loving, supportive parent had never been a high bar to clear. But in that argument, she had become worse than father.
“I tolerated your attempting peace between Ttaunz and Farooqua,” she had spat. “Because it gave you a hobby. But how could you debase your station, your bloodline, by fornicating with that primitive abomination? You are heir to the Magnal Throne!”
Taorr could’ve ended this strife, labeled Mhir’ujiid a brief existential crisis. A filthy lie. Mhir’ujiid was his future. “If the Magnal Throne keeps me from my beloved,” Taorr had hesitated, realizing the weight of his next words as the five Ttaunz glared at him, “then I’ll gladly abdicate the throne!”
Silence ensued. Maorridius Magnus gaped, having never tasted open defiance from his own blood. As Taorr’s declaration sank in, his father’s face darkened.
Uaros and Gaorr had barely restrained him from lunging at Taorr. Only urgent matters regarding the skyquakes across Faroor had ended the subsequent screaming between Taorr and everyone. Before leaving, Maorridius Magnus had issued one final declaration.
“Stay in your apartments until you rega
in your errant wits.” The look on father’s face still gave Taorr chills. “Or you will be thrown in prison.”
Several orvs had passed since then. Taorr was currently in the spacious common room of his royal apartments. He had changed into a dark red tunic lined with gold at the sleeves, high collar and tunic hem coupled with matching pants. His sleek, straight hair was pulled into a low ponytail. He looked like the perfect Ttaunz highborn.
The walls in his room were covered in framed imagery of his family: his father, Gaorr, mother and himself posing regally in the finest clothing. A holoimage dominated the wall opposite him: Taorr and Uarya after their betrothal. They actually looked happy. But he no longer recognized himself in those photos.
The ovular table before him was packed with mouthwatering delicacies from Union memberworlds Monaskoa, Bhuun, and Galdor, enough for four meals. Taorr hadn’t touched a morsel.
Why not do your duty? a small voice conceded. Marry Uarya but still see Mhir’ujiid. Surrendering to his fate as the future Magnus of Faroor seemed so easy. Maybe he could better unite Ttaunz and Farooqua as Magnus.
But that notion soured quickly. He didn’t want a double life. And Taorr knew after his abduction, his father would drive the Farooqua race to near extinction before his reign began.
Taorr shuddered.
Now Taorr was helpless to reach Mhir’ujiid, unable to communicate with the world outside of Magnasterium, unable to leave this room. A prisoner in a gilded cage.
Frustrated, the Ttaunz popped up to his feet. “What can I do?” He ran both hands through his hair. “How can I return to…her?” He was careful never to say Mhir’ujiid’s name aloud. Who knew what his father would do if he discovered her identity.
A door chime froze Taorr in mid-pace. “Come,” he bade warily. His common room doors swung open. His eyes widened as his guest was revealed. “You?”
“Yes, me,” Uarya daughter of Uaros answered evenly. She entered with graceful strides, wearing a silken and strappy dress. Her pelt bore an unearthly sheen, like her short cropped mane.
