by C. C. Ekeke
17.
“We’re here?” Tharydane stared at the plump human Mikas in shock. “We’ve arrived at Terra Sollus?” After 10 days of non-stop travel from Bimnorii aboard a cargo freighter, they had finally reached the planet of her race’s origin. Tharydane longed to see it for herself, feeling happiness for the first time in weeks. Then the young Korvenite gave herself a onceover, and became very self-conscious. Her oversized shirt betrayed various dirt stains and a stale mustiness.
“Well, yes.” Mikas looked rueful. “But with all this spacelane traffic, we’re docking for a short bit at one of the orbital commerce stations.” Mikas’ behavior seemed…off. He was hiding something.
Tharydane almost scanned him, and instantly rued the thought. After his selflessness, Mikas did not deserve that. As for his co-pilot Pol’Jeras, Tharydane had no such reservations. If she’s seen with me, a Ganttarian, we’ll be shot on sight, Pol’Jeras fretted while padding from the shower, leaving tracks of wet footprints.
Mikas took Tharydane by the shoulders. “The kind of humans here aren’t crazy about Korvenites. I’m just bringing you out, since there’s an arrival scan and the room you were in is shielded. Long story.”
“I already know the story by heart,” Tharydane sulked. How could she have forgotten the malignant history between her species and the humans? The Korvenite bowed her head, crestfallen.
“But,” Mikas released her shoulders and wagged his finger. His face brightened. “There’s hope for ya.” He rummaged in his pocket before pulling a dull silver bracelet. Its familiarity pulled Tharydane out of her self-pity. “Remember that sensor-fooling holoimage thing I was toying with?”
“Give up the dream, Mike.” Pol’Jeras snarked from his cabinet. “That holo imagery gadget won’t fool GUPR sensors.” Tharydane leveled a scowl the Ganttarian’s way. The Korvenite didn’t know how much more of Pol’Jeras she could take after nearly two weeks of his snide and sour attitude.
By Mikas’s angered face, he clearly felt the same. “SHADDUP! It works. Look.” He clasped the bracelet on his wrist. “Kedri!” A shimmering light doused him, and then Tharydane saw a towering, chiseled Kedri in Mikas’ place. Only his clothes and stance remained the same. Her eyes widened in awe.
“HAW!” he guffawed. After pressing another two buttons, the Kedri vanished in a shimmer and an elated Mikas was once again rotund and human. “Got it fixed before we left. I programmed in about three races, Human, Kedri, Ibrisian or Nnaxan. The bad thing is that the charge only lasts for about 2-3orvs.”
Mikas unclasped it from his wrist and dangled it within Tharydane’s grasp. “We’ll be here for a day or three to refuel, so use it and snoop around. Stretch out a bit. It’d be good for ya.”
Tharydane nodded, her curly mauve locks tumbling down her shoulders. Later, the Korvenite was alone in the bathroom, fingering the near-weightless holoimagery bracelet in her hand. It would be safer to stay on board the ship, out of trouble. She frowned, as somehow trouble always found her.
Tharydane? Tharydane hiccupped in shock. A curious voice in her mind. “Who—?” She looked this way and that. Silence greeted her. The voice was unmistakably Korvenite. On this station? For a moment, Tharydane wanted to respond via Mindspeak, but stopped herself. Who knew if the Union had scanners that detected Korvenite telepathy? Curiosity had taken root, refusing to die.
She held up the holoimagery bracelet at eye-level, ambivalent. “Maybe I’ll take a peek…tomorrow.” After a needed bath, she donned a clean blue tank top and striped pants from the ship’s synthfabric generator. Then the Korvenite slapped on the bracelet and shouted the species she wished to resemble.
18.
Khrome, Tyris, V’Korram and Honaa sat at the joined round tables in the center of an empty Pilot Pub. Habraum stood waiting at the head of the furthest table from the entrance. Ex-fighter pilot turned barkeep Solrao watched the gathering from behind the bar with her usual lazy smile. At a glance he could tell she was hung-over. Habraum hadn’t spent much time with Solrao since rejoining Star Brigade. That’ll change when things calm down. As it was a casual early morning event, no one wore uniforms. V’Korram wore a tank top and shorts, his long mane in a ponytail. Habraum himself had on a dark red V-neck tee and navy blue denims. The Cerc’s first field commander had held festive meetings in Pilot Pub. It behooved Habraum to uphold tradition. “Thanks for this Sollie,” he called to Solrao.
“Just don’t break anything. Wait,” the Ibrisian shrugged indolently. “What do I care? Break what you want as long as you have fun.” Marguliese stood removed from the gathering, a silent lissome specter leaning against the bar in an ebony Brigade-logoed catsuit with her fiery-red mane in a long sleek braid.
Liliana and Sam arrived last. “Sorry we’re late, sir,” the doctor yawned, sitting next to Khrome while scratching her cropped pixie cut hair. She wore a slim-fitting black/gold ringer t-shirt with army green cargo pants. Sam’s attire included a white off-the-shoulder tee and lilac short shorts, with a khaki army cap atop her pulled back blonde hair. Sam and Solrao exchanged a warm glance, as the former sat beside V’Korram.
“Everything’s set,” the Ibrisian mouthed to Habraum before exiting Pilot Pub.
Habraum cleared his throat and the prattle began dying out. Except between Tyris and Khrome who quarreled which warships had the best firepower; UComm AeroFleet or Kedri Imperium Star Navy.
Sam snapped her fingers at the chatty pair. “Silencio. Chief’s talking.” Liliana openly guffawed, causing Sam to giggle at her own words.
Tyris’s gaze narrowed into cobalt-blue slits. “What’s silencio?”
“Means ‘shut up,’” V’Korram snarled. The table erupted in laughter, especially Liliana and Sam. Marguliese had no reaction and V’Korram looked around in bother. “Why’s that funny?”
“Alright, alright,” Habraum said with a smile, and the group finally hushed. “I have news. This team has been invited to the Union-Imperium Trade Merger ceremony tomorrow.”
As Habraum expected, the reaction was mixed. Tyris’s eyes widened, though with no mouth or nose his face was hard to read. Liliana brightened with genuine interest. Sam, Honaa and Khrome appeared less than ecstatic. “Why aren’t we going after Maelstrom?” the Thulican asked flatly.
“I’d rather be hunting Maelstrom also, but it wasn’t my call,” Habraum replied briskly. Digging into the matter would only sully his mood. The Trade Merger also prevented him from attending Jeremy’s field trip tomorrow. “We’ll get back on the Maelstrom hovertram…after the Trade Merger ceremony.”
Sam gave Habraum a hard look from under her hat’s rim. “Soooo, instead we have to watch a bunch of do-nothing politicians verbally slurp each other off in public?” Her question was said with significant disdain. “Why not save ourselves a trip and watch space porn?”
That got a decidedly more tickled response, though Honaa did an infuriated face-palm. Habraum eyed Sam sternly, but he couldn’t help but grin at the bratty way she crossed her arms and smirked out an apology. “This is a historical moment we get to witness firsthand. Let’s not forget that,” the Cerc reminded the group.
“Onto my next announcement, or should I say ‘statement.’” Habraum nervously scratched at the back of his bald head, feeling his team’s eyes trained on him like lasers. Spout it out lad. “I know things got off to a prickly start when I first returned.”
“You wanted out after a week!” Khrome called out jestingly.
Habraum and Sam exchanged looks for a fleeting instant. “No comment,” he joked, earning more laughter from CT-1, except Marguliese. The Cerc took in every face in this tiny bar. They would never replace his previous combat team, and Habraum knew now that was a good thing. “But now, you’ve become the first combat team of the new Star Brigade. And I’m honored to be your field commander.”
There was no disparity in anyone’s expression after those words, other than a passing look of guilt on Honaa’s face. Sam shot on her feet and began clapping, givin
g Habraum a glowing look. The rest of the team remained seated, but took up the clapping readily.
“And as a token of my appreciation,” Habraum added as the clapping subsided, “breakfast is on me.”
Those four words triggered three floating servermechs to zip from Pilot Pub’s kitchen with trays of food, six dishes, each a favorite of one Brigadier. Galdorian ridgeback graya bisque and boreka fingers breaded in crumbled gold coral for Liliana; a stack of seven heavy rusted Thulican patalium squarecakes for Khrome; bioluminescent ice water for Tyris; scrambled chicken eggs and goldberry pancakes for Sam; grilled marshwyrm in pitch-black salla sauce for Honaa; loomk meat & kirwood bark pie for V’Korram.
Sam had gathered the background details and ingredients, Habraum and Jeremy did the cooking.
“If my cooking’s a total bomber, don’t hesitate to tell me,” Habraum added self-deprecatingly, as each Brigadier took their meal. Instead, ‘thank yous’ and noises of enjoyment bubbled up from everyone at the tables. Everyone except V’Korram, who sat unmoving and fixated on his meat pie, body-fur on end.
All of CT-1 noticed and eyed the Kintarian expectantly. According to Sam, he hadn’t touched loomk & kirwood bark pie since leaving Kintare years ago. “That about right, lad?” Habraum asked.
V’Korram looked up, visibly touched. “My gratitude, sir,” he nodded, his voice a wistful purr.
“If you’re just going to stare,” Sam reached for the meal. “Maybe I’ll take a bite—OW.” The Kintarian slapped her hand away cat-quick. Everyone laughed. Marguliese even threatened to smile. Sam, grinning impishly, draped an arm around V’Korram’s shoulders and drew him into a side hug.
Habraum watched his team happily conversing as they consumed their meals, especially Liliana. It was a treasure seeing the doctor relax, flashing her beautiful smile. Instead of joining his team’s camaraderie, the Cerc stayed removed, recognizing CT-1’s gratitude with nods or ‘thank yous.’ Can’t get attached like before… His gaze landed on Honaa, and he felt anger driven by a flood of images from last night. After putting Jeremy to bed, Habraum had planned to check on Honaa. Except, the Rothorid had visited him first, with his resignation from active field duty. “After we capture or kill Maelssstrom, I’m taking a two month break. When I return, it will only be part-time to prepare new combat teams.”
Habraum had stared at him uncomprehendingly. Marguliese’s tenure was ending right after the Maelstrom scenario was resolved. But Honaa off the field? Just when we’re getting our issues sorted.
“I get needing a break,” he had said after finding his voice. “Why leave field duty now?”
“I ssstayed when Ssstar Brigade needed me. It wasss my duty,” Honaa had replied listlessly, as if reading off a holoprompter. “Now I’m needed no longer. I misssss Rothor IV, my family.”
“I still need you, Honaa,” Habraum insisted stubbornly. Part of him understood and agreed with what Honaa wanted. But the Cerc had planned for the Rothorid to take CT-1, while he eventually took CT-2 when it was ready. “Who else will lead a combat team?”
“Promote Sssam in my place,” Honaa had insisted, unmoved. “Ssshe’ss ready.”
“Capable, yes. But willing?” Habraum knew Sam too well. She’d eventually grow to despise the burden of leading her own combat team. “Give it another year. At least until—.”
Honaa had cut him off with a harsh swish of his tail. “I have ‘the fadesss’.”
The message had punched Habraum in the stomach. What maximum hadn’t heard of the infamous ‘fading ability’ syndrome? Gene mapping couldn’t trace the disease, which randomly struck one in every 250 maximums with permanent power loss. “How long have you known?” he asked slowly.
“Two monthsss. Power fluctuationss already ssstarted,” an edge of pain had seeped into his voice with that admission, snuffing out Habraum’s prickle of hope. Power fluctuations meant Honaa had caught the problem too late to fix it. “Another year and my powersss will be at half ssstrength.”
“Rogguts,” Habraum muttered in disbelief. He sat heavily on his couch before his legs buckled.
“It would be hypocritical and dangerous to ssstay on active field duty,” Honaa had continued, calm and collected despite being the one with the disease. “Essspecially when I reported a ressspected Brigadier yearsss ago for hiding her own fadess affliction.”
Habraum vaguely recalled that story, but could’ve cared less about it then. “Alright. Okay,” he had said. The world that had just steadied beneath him was violently shifting again. After more discussion he and Honaa had decided to tell the rest of Star Brigade after Maelstrom’s capture. Transfer of duties details could wait for now. Habraum had slept poorly last night, once again fretting over the future.
For now, Habraum pushed Honaa’s departure away until he needed to engage it again. The Cerc turned to Marguliese, removed and observing the proceedings dispassionately. “I want you on Terra Sollus with us tomorrow,” the Cerc stated softly, once he was leaning forward on the bar at her side.
Marguliese regarded him curiously. Her cold and glittering eyes resembled twin stars snatched from the heavens. “With the Kedri Imperium in attendance, that is ill-advised.”
“Not pursuing Maelstrom when the trail’s white-hot is ill-advised,” the Cerc threw back. “Sides, I have a bad gut feeling about tomorrow.” He turned to see Sam chatting with Honaa, but eyeing Habraum with a pointed, inquiring look. The Cerc shook his head and she returned her full attention to Honaa.
“That, Habraum, would not be a gut feeling,” the Cybernarr continued with tightened lips. “Given what we know about Maelstrom, that is a logical assumption.”
19.
The largest ceremony Liliana had ever attended was her medical school graduation. Star Brigade hadn’t even reached Terra Sollus yet and she could tell this would be both a thousand times bigger and make her feel a thousand times worse. Compared to yesterday’s wonderful team breakfast by Captain Nwosu and subsequently seamless training session, CT-1’s mood today was comparable to a funeral procession as they all boarded the Phaeton dressed in their formal UComm uniforms. Even odder was that Nwosu required CT-1 to include a flashsuit bracelet, which converted the unstable matter in the uniforms into field combat outfits. Liliana decided to add a little personality to her attire by spiking up her pixie short hair in a wingtip style, earning a chuckle from Nwosu and an amused wink from Sam.
The doctor had never seen Terra Sollus aerospace so teeming with vessels from every part of the Union and beyond. Spacelanes of traffic stretched for thousands of miles into the black as vessels waited to enter the GUPR capitalworld. Yet the Kedri, renowned for dramatic entrances, had yet to arrive. Honaa sped the Phaeton past, thanks to Star Brigade’s military access. As the Phaeton soared through Terra Sollus’s fluffy atmosphere, mountains peaks and tips of starscrapers poked through the clouds, lofty heralds to the majestic cityscape sprawled below.
Conuropolis, the intersection of Union prestige, politics and privilege. The cosmic grandeur of Terra Sollus’ capital always left Liliana stunned, no matter how many times she visited. The usual crisscrosses of hovercar traffic had been rerouted far from Conuropolis’s downtown. Towering buildings with angled or rounded shapes glittered for all to see. Those made of collapsible tech had shifted locations, making space for the civilian masses viewing today’s event on colossal holoscreens all over the city-state. Every part of Conuropolis’s sprawl that Liliana could see was doused in colors so vivid and bright they seemed artificial. Streaming, flag-like holobanners filled the skies above the city-state, depicting every Union memberworld. The pointedly larger Galactic Union holobanner floated above them all. But seeing the gigantic Korvanes statues at the city’s outskirts soured Liliana on the glorious pageantry, reminding her of Alorum’s Light all over again.
After Honaa parked the Phaeton, Star Brigade was shuttled off to the Andromeda Hall in the heart of Conuropolis’ Diktat District. There, Liliana and the rest of Star Brigade stood amongst the vas
t gaggle of VIPs attending the Trade Merger commemoration.
Liliana frowned at the sight of Chouncilor Bogosian near the far end of the Hall. He wore an absurd all-white collared suit, surrounded by a wall of Honor Guard, while greeting Union dignitaries. Amongst them was the petite Cassiopeia Santos, Terra Sollus’s current Viceroy. Despite Liliana’s discontent with Bogosian, she was relieved not to be the recipient of the death glare Sam leveled at the Chouncilor.
The rest of the time, she zoned out on the Hall’s architecture. Overarched knots stretched across the high vaulted ceiling of the Hall, a vivid tapestry of the Galactic Union’s known planets. Each knot branched down the walls on the right and left like tree roots. Within the nook of the knot roots on the walls were mosaic-style pictures of the Milky Way and other known galaxies.
Various politicians and other Union officials filled the Andromeda Hall’s expansive court, exchanging chitchat with one-time adversaries in front of the holovid cameras. All for good show, she surmised. High-ranking Union Command officers in full uniform strode about so everyone with at least one eye could see their many medals. These beings were so divorced from reality.
“I recognize that boredom mixed with disgust, and a dash of curiosity?”
Liliana looked over her shoulder and smiled, the first genuine one of the day. “That obvious?”
“Don’t fret,” Khrome’s burly physique bulged beneath his red and black dress uniform. “Your secret’s safe with me.” The doctor giggled, grateful for the brief mirth.
“Would it kill the Kedri to be on time for once?” Tyris grumbled. Despite her misgivings, Liliana was anxious to see the Kedri contingent, particularly Sovereign Orok Kel. It’s not every day a doctor from a small Navarrene town witnessed a visit from the Kedri Imperium.
“I expected no less from you, V’Korram. Three years and you’re still consistent.”
