by JP Raymond
N O ONE EVER STARTS A FIGHT by themselves. Sure, there’s always the guy who makes the first move. He says something, or he throws someone a look they don’t like. Then everyone starts jawing, and the next thing you know, somebody decides he’s had enough of this shit and takes a swing.
But it doesn’t start that way. There is always a guy who escalates the situation. He decides to pour gasoline on the fire. He turns a tiny, little nothing into a great, big something.
And half the time, it’s someone not directly involved. They start throwing shit into the pot just to see what will happen.
That’s how a dirty look becomes an insult. How an insult becomes a confrontation. How a confrontation becomes a fight.
How a fight becomes a war.
Once you get there, once somebody has stirred the pot enough, there’s no turning back. Somewhere along the way, people forget what they’re supposed to be fighting about. But once you escalate the conflict, the only thing that matters is winning.
Episode 3:
No Place to Hide
I DRIB MOL STARED INTO THE MIRROR until he was convinced his expression was unquestionably solemn, irrefutably sincere.
“And so, fellow senators,” he intoned, “we must act. I know this legislation is unprecedented. Indeed, I understand only too well how it contradicts the foundation of our government. But I submit to you that these are unprecedented circumstances. If we do not adopt this extraordinary but reasonable proposal, then we have no government at all. Then the Empire has truly fallen. All that is left is chaos. I bid you to think of the needs of the future rather than the dictates of tradition.”
Idrib frowned. It was a good line, poetic and simple. But was it enough to convince undecided fools to vote correctly? Would it pull them to his side, or push them away?
He himself knew the importance of tradition to the Empire. It was the infrastructure on which everything was built. It was the reason for everything, the impetus to deny change.
But right now, it was the path of suicide. If the Imperial Senate failed to act, there would be no emperor, no legitimacy to any law they enacted. The prophecies would be true.
Damn the foul humans anyway. They could only be here as a test from God, a trial to see if the Three Races would stay true to his commands or embrace corruption. Why else would he fling them across the galaxy, refugees of a dying world, and deposit them here? By their own admission, they had destroyed their home planet. Most of their priests concluded they had turned away from holy law.
They were trash, galactic refuse that brought plague to the Empire and befouled the stars with their stench. Their disgusting flame needed to be extinguished before it set fire to civilization itself.
To do that required an emperor. Without one, order could not be established. And without order, the human chaos would spread until it infected everything.
He returned his gaze to the mirror. When his face was once again a mask of utter gravity, he opened his mouth to resume practicing, determined to add more passion to his pitch.
The door chimed. Idrib sighed in irritation. Would he ever have enough peace to get this done? Did he alone understand the importance of this?
“Come,” he called.
The door to his chamber slid open, and Orisin Nus stepped in.
“Pardon my intrusion, Senator,” he said. “I have an update on your daughter.”
“What is it?”
“Cataan’s Claw is now nearly a week overdue at Rijan IV,” Orisin said. “Captain Kel reports they have scoured the Rijan system and found no evidence of Manifest Destiny’s presence.”
“It was we who arranged for Mr. Brody to effect the kidnapping, not his organization,” Idrib spat. “Of course there are no Manifest Destiny agents waiting for him!”
“Yes, sir.”
“What of the Space Rangers? Do they have any leads?”
“Grand Marshal Hoorn has received no sightings from any of his Rangers, although he stresses a thorough search will take considerable time,” Orisin said.
Idrib frowned.
“I do not see that this is any kind of update,” he said. “You came here to tell me we know nothing, which is no different from the last time you reported to me on this matter.”
Orisin blushed. He dropped his gaze to the floor.
“I am sorry, Senator,” he said. “I assumed you would want to be kept abreast of all developments.”
“I do!” Idrib all but shouted. “But nothing has developed. Cataan’s Claw has not arrived in the Rijan system, and the Space Rangers have not found Haneeta. What am I supposed to do with that? We know nothing. Which is exactly what we knew before!”
Orisin stood quietly, still studying the floor. His lips twitched. Idrib could tell he wanted to say something but was afraid.
“What is it, Orisin?” he demanded.
“I thought . . .” Idrib’s assistant’s voice trailed away.
“You thought what?”
Orisin cleared his throat and met Idrib’s gaze.
“I thought you might like to try something new,” he said. “Since our current methods are not meeting with success.”
Idrib opened his mouth to shout that there was nothing more to be done, but then a thought seized him. The whole purpose of this exercise was to destroy humanity. Perhaps there was a way to turn the mishap into a bigger triumph.
“Let us involve the media,” he said.
Orisin’s eyes widened. He blinked twice.
“The media?” he asked. “Are you sure?”
It was a fair question. Idrib considered. Once IEN got involved, it would be difficult to control the story. The whole thing would take on an ugly life of its own.
But Idrib could conceive of no scenario in which outrage at humanity would not sweep the Empire. Tie Manifest Destiny to this incident, and everyone would hate them.
“Yes,” he said. “Alert the network. Give them few details. Tell them the Space Rangers and the Imperial Authority are investigating, but little is known about how she was taken.
“But plaster Kitekh Galesh’s face and her ship on every video screen in the galaxy. I want every citizen of the Empire to know her name, what she looks like, and most importantly, her personal hatred of me. Make sure IEN knows Manifest Destiny is behind the kidnapping and that Galesh has turned traitor just to get revenge on me. In fact, give them Brody’s name too, and see if Daxal Station has any surveillance video of him boarding Cataan’s Claw. By this time tomorrow, I want Kitekh Galesh and James Brody to be the two most-hated names in the Empire. If they’re still alive, if they have Haneeta, there will be no place they can go to escape.”
“Yes, sir.”
He turned to go but stopped before the door. After a moment’s pause, he looked at Idrib over his shoulder.
“Senator, if we do this, there is no going back,” he said. “Once IEN has the story, there is no telling where it will go.”
“We know where it will go, Orisin. It will lead to the utter destruction of humanity and to the restoration of the Empire.”
Orisin studied him for several seconds. Idrib read doubt in his eyes.
“I hope you are right, Senator,” he said. “God help us if you are not.”
“I am not wrong, Orisin. God will help us. This is his will.”
His assistant gazed on him for several more seconds. Then he left.
Idrib returned to the mirror. He struggled to recompose his look of solemnity. The interruption had proven fortuitous. With the fires of outrage burning through the galaxy, he could position himself as savior to the Empire. How could he be seen as anything other than a hero as he bravely set aside the devastation of his da
ughter’s kidnapping to introduce critical legislation? Who would doubt his commitment to the future and the betterment of all?
Yes, it was even better this way. With their constituents crying for justice and Idrib stoically calling for order, the Senate would give him what he wanted. They could do nothing else.
JAQUAN FLUNG UP AN ARM TO ward off the vile creature flying towards him and reached for his beamer. The fiend closed the distance quickly, reaching for him with its tiny arms and opening its hideous mouth even wider. Drool glistened on the hundreds of teeth in its maw. He realized he wouldn’t be able to bring his pistol to bear in time.
Instinctively, he squeezed his eyes shut, not wanting to watch the monster eat him.
Burning pain licked across his hand. His arm went numb as he screamed. Then he smelled charred flesh.
Unable to resist the urge to know how he was dying, he opened his eyes. Yellow ropes of electricity crackled up his arm and out into the chamber. A moment later, the blackened husk of the strange beast collided with his chest. Sparks burned through his shirt, searing his chest. He cried out again.
The electricity dissipated, and the corpse of the monster fell to the deck. JaQuan stared at it stunned.
“Come on!” Alan shouted.
Shocked back into action, JaQuan bolted for the door. Behind him, a cloud of the fiends swarmed the Elohim criminals who had purchased them. Sil and his associates screamed in terror and agony as they were devoured.
More of the beasts flew towards JaQuan and Alan, looking for fresh meat. JaQuan raced through the door, keying it shut as soon as he crossed the threshold.
He wasn’t quite fast enough. One of the bastards got half its brown, segmented body through the aperture before the door closed on it, cutting the thing in half. It squealed horribly, sailing through the air, trailing blood and gore until it crashed to the deck several feet away. Alan took aim and fried what was left of it with his electroray gun.
JaQuan slumped against the bulkhead, gasping for air and trying to slow the beating of his heart. His right hand ached. Burns covered the back of it, although they appeared superficial. He looked at Alan.
“Thanks for saving my life,” JaQuan said.
“No problem,” Alan replied, sounding as though he wanted to vomit. “Sorry, I hit you too. The gun electrifies particles between it and the target. You were close enough, the current moved to you as well.”
“As long as I’m still breathing,” he said.
“What the hell is going on here?” a voice cried.
JaQuan looked up to see the two Elohim guards who had let them in come charging down the hall. He pulled his beamer and fired, hitting the leader in the heart with a green ray of focused plasma. The guard fell to the deck, dead, as his companion gaped. JaQuan shot the slack-jawed Elohiman in the head, killing him instantly.
“Let’s get the fuck out of here before more help arrives,” JaQuan said.
Alan nodded once, and the two of them ran for the exit. Seconds later, they were standing outside, huffing.
“What the hell were those things?” Alan asked.
“Who cares?” JaQuan replied. “They almost killed us. Fucking Kairee set us up.”
Alan stopped panting for a moment and looked at JaQuan wide-eyed.
“A setup?” he said. “You really think he tried to have us killed?”
“Do you even doubt it?” JaQuan said. “We weren’t delivering any fucking weapon. We were dropping a bomb. Kairee sent us to assassinate Sil, and he figured we’d die too.”
“Holy shit,” Alan whispered. “We better let Rorgun know. He may be in danger.”
“We ain’t telling Rorgun shit! I don’t know whose side he’s on, and until I do, I’m treating him like it ain’t ours.”
“So what then?”
“We need to find out if Rischa is okay. She made it obvious she doesn’t like Kairee or the Kwin Faan. If we were supposed to die, she might be in danger too.”
JaQuan holstered his beamer, then tapped a message into his comm link:
RISCHA, DO NOT REACT TO THIS MESSAGE. REPLY BY TEXT ONLY. ARE YOU OKAY?
He sent the message and then waited for a response. Alan alternated looking back at the door and down the hall, worried someone would come along. JaQuan’s comm link chimed. Rischa’s reply was brief:
YES, WHY?
He tapped out another message:
JOB WAS A SETUP. KAIREE HAD US ASSASSINATE A RIVAL. EXPECTED US TO DIE TOO. MONEY HAS BEEN TRANSFERRED INTO KAIREE’S ACCOUNT. DO YOU HAVE THE CRYSTAL?
JaQuan tapped his foot impatiently after hitting “send.” If the Kwin Faan were dealing fairly with Rorgun, it might be possible to get out of this with minimal fuss. He wanted to rip Kairee’s throat out, but he was mostly interested in just getting the fuck off The Outpost with the Myollnar Crystal they needed to repair the ship’s hyperdrive. If Rorgun had it, they could leave right now and put this whole ugly business behind them.
His comm link chimed again. JaQuan’s heart sank when he read the one-word reply:
NO.
“Shit!”
“What’s the matter?” Alan asked, looking even more worried.
“Rorgun doesn’t have the crystal. We’re going to have to go back for it.”
Alan blinked at him. JaQuan wasn’t sure if his expression meant fear or confusion, but he didn’t have time to wonder.
Think! How were they going to get the crystal and at least Rischa away from the Kwin Faan? If this was a setup, Kairee would not be expecting JaQuan and Alan to return. He’d just be waiting for confirmation that everyone was dead before making good on his end of the bargain.
That assumed that he intended to give Rorgun the crystal at all. Maybe he planned to get rid of Rischa too and then force Rorgun to join back up with him.
What, if anything, did Rorgun know? Had Gadaar told him back on the lander this would happen? Was Rorgun expecting to walk out with the crystal, or was he just selling out his shipmates?
The latter didn’t seem like him. JaQuan had known him for three years. So as far as he could tell, Rorgun’s only loyalty was to Kitekh.
But JaQuan hadn’t known about the Kwin Faan or Rorgun’s past association with them. Had Kitekh?
He sighed in frustration. What to do depended entirely on Kairee’s ultimate intentions and whose side Rorgun was really on. It was impossible to know any of it from where they were.
“JaQuan, what are we going to do?” Alan asked, giving voice to all of JaQuan’s doubts.
He sighed again. There were no good options.
But they did have two distinct advantages. First, Kairee didn’t expect them to be alive. He’d sold them out, believing they’d be killed by his insidious pets. Second, they had someone on the inside.
“Okay,” he said. “I’ve got a plan.”
“Who are you?” a voice said.
JaQuan turned to see an Elohiman dressed in the same golden shift and black cloak of Sil’s other people. Like his dead companions, this one wore a sword on his left hip and a beamer on his right.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, reaching for his pistol.
JaQuan whipped out his own beamer and fired in a single fluid motion, hitting the newcomer in the shoulder. He cried out and dropped his weapon. JaQuan shot him in the face.
Alan stared, horrified as JaQuan looked over the dead Elohiman, feeling like Doc Holliday.
“Damn, JaQuan,” Alan said. “You had him disarmed. You didn’t have to kill him.”
“Maybe not. But we didn’t have time to answer any of his questions, and he was going for his beamer. It wasn’t going to end well, no matter what, especially once he got inside.”
Alan stared for several seconds longer.
“Should we hide the body inside?” he asked.
“You want to risk opening that door and maybe letting more of those monsters out?”
Alan shuddered at the thought. He swallowed hard.
“Good point,” he said.
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JaQuan’s comm link chimed.
WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO DO?
Good question. With another sigh, he tapped out a message:
DO NOT SAY ANYTHING TO RORGUN. WE DON’T KNOW WHOSE SIDE HE IS ON.
Then he outlined his plan to Rischa. He hoped it wasn’t utter madness.
GWEN STOOD OVER THE DEAD ELOHIMAN, trying to piece together what had happened. He had plasma burns on face and his shoulder from where the bald human had shot him. Even if she hadn’t watched the man shoot him on her hacked video feed from the security cameras, cause of death would have been easy to determine.
But the fact that he’d been shot to death while reaching for his own weapon didn’t tell her what the hell was going on.
The two humans had met with a pair of Elohim just outside the door to her left. After a quick conversation, they were taken inside. The camera feed was jammed beyond the door, so Gwen had no idea what they had done after they’d entered.
Minutes later, the two Elohim who’d stood guard outside the door rushed through it, as though called by some alarm. Shortly afterwards, the humans reemerged, both with pistols in their hands. When the unfortunate Elohiman at her feet came along and discovered them, he’d been murdered.
None of this made sense. The humans had arrived with two Graur. She knew from Station Control they were from the fugitive ship Cataan’s Claw and that they were almost certainly here to repair their hyperdrive. A third Graur had taken them into the depths of the station, disappearing behind another door with jammed security feeds. Only the humans had emerged.
Now, the same thing had happened. The two men had gone behind closed doors with Elohim only to come out alone. What the hell were they doing?
Gwen closed her eyes and listened to the throbbing hum of the station’s power generators reverberating through the walls. Distractions drained away. What had she missed?
The two terrorists had met with two Elohim at this door. They’d talked for several seconds, then one of the Elohim had spoken into a comm link. When he got his reply, he’d ushered the humans inside, leaving his partner at the door.
