Flames: Galaxy On Fire, Book 2

by Craig Robertson

  “What in the Burning Desert was that about?” asked Slapgren.

  “I don’t know,” replied Mirraya as she stared at the doors. “But I don’t think that will be our last radiance from HIL.”

  “Mirri,” he said in a panicked hush, “no jokes about you know who.”

  “There’s something he wants. I can taste it.”

  “Yeah, His Imperial Lord wants to mount you,” he replied.

  “No. That’s not it. He was trying to be funny. And there’s nothing funny about that one. I wish I knew why we were brought here. I think I’d rather be tortured and dead as opposed to finding out what it is HIL wants.”

  “Mirri.”

  EIGHTEEN

  Whoop Ass made the trip to Kaljax in a little over a week. I was definitely spoiled by my cube because I resented not being there instantly. My how times had changed. Back in the day, I’d flown a mission over forty years long on my own. Now, FTL was unacceptably slow.

  As we neared the planet GB started monitoring some communications. It became clear that the Adamant were not in control of the planet, at least not yet. It was too close to their main force not to be assimilated soon, though. But I’d caught a break. The chatter GB passed on to me suggested a society operating pretty much normally. There were political upheavals in the news, big sports contests just around the corner, and tips for saving money in uncertain times. All the usual suspects, so to speak. There was also a lot of signals, reinforcing my assumption that the bag dogs weren’t present.

  As Kaljaxians were smaller than humans, had ovaloid heads, and four eyes, I wasn’t going to blend in seamlessly. I hoped there were enough traders and resident aliens to make my distinct appearance irrelevant. From what I’d gathered, humans were never seem, but just another alien would be anonymous enough if there were lots in the mix.

  We dropped back into normal space a few thousand kilometers from Kaljax and assumed a standard orbit under impulse engines. GB learned that there was an active trade traffic coming and going. Kaljax, as one of the still free planets in the region, was making a fortune off war spending. They were making hay while the sun shined, but I hoped they knew their period of bliss would be short lived. If they didn’t ramp up their own defensive capabilities, they would fall to the Adamant like so many other worlds. If so, all the past profits would be meaningless. As surely as dead men told no tales, they also needed no money.

  I requested and received clearance to land at one of the many busy spaceports in Talrid, a major city I’d spent a lot of time in long ago. Long ago, in another life, actually. It was the home of Sapale’s clan. Wherever a Kaljaxian traveled, they always held a reverence for the family’s ancestral homestead. Even people born on other planets regarded the family's ancestral spot as their true home.

  After we landed, I made certain my ride didn’t wander off. I could get another ship now, but Whoop Ass was probably much faster than anything I could afford to purchase. I was entitled to some of Sapale’s family assets, which were tied to the land, but it wasn’t likely to be too much immediate cash. Plus, that assumed there were any vestiges of her family remaining. In the rare cases where a family line died off entirely, the land was quickly divided up between families with adjacent holdings. In such a case, I’d be entitled to exactly nothing.

  “I’m going to ask around about my wife’s family, try and make some friendly contacts. While I’m gone, I want you to continue to compile as much information as you can. I want to know what’s going on, politically and socially. I especially want to know how close the Adamant are and what the powers that be are planning to do about them. You got that?”

  “Yes. You don’t want me to leave and have given me a lengthy task to preoccupy my desires to fulfill my primary mission.”

  “Hey, split the difference. Collect some samples here. No sentients, please. That’d draw too much attention. But scoop up some bugs or something. If you don’t kill them, try collecting rodents. They’re darn tough.”

  “The longer you speak, the more I wish to abandon you here. You know that, right?”

  “Suit yourself. I’ll stay in contact on the same frequency. Let me know if anyone tries to find out about you.”

  “Who would want to investigate me? I’m one of ten thousand ships docked here.”

  “You see, there you go again with the negativity. If you aren’t on the lookout all the time, you’ll fall easy prey to any sneaky ne’er-do-well. Who knows, someone might notice you’re configured differently and start asking questions. I want us to blend in. Got it?”

  “Yes, Father. I promise not to stay up past my bedtime either.”

  “Say, have you ever met my ship’s AI named Al?”

  “You’ve asked me that two hundred and fifteen times. The answer’s still no.”

  “Hm. Whatever. I’ll be back as soon as I have a reason to.”

  “Why would you return if you had no reason to?”

  “Because I missed you, GB. You’re growing on me like an aggressive fungal disease.”

  “Please go now.”

  I hailed a cab and had the driver take me on a mini-tour. I asked her about Sapale’s family. Sure enough, they were still alive and kicking. She dropped me off at the clan leader’s home near the city center. Typical for the practical Kaljaxian, it was large, but functional as opposed to opulent. They were a most practical race. Plus, they saved whatever funds they could for their favorite contact sport. War. They loved them some vicious combat. That was one of Sapale’s reasons for founding Azsuram as a bold new society, free from the constant fighting.

  I marched up the steps and rang the doorbell. A servant opened it immediately.

  He passed an eye up and down me dubiously, then spoke in Standard. “May I help you?”

  “Absolutely,” I replied in Hirn, the local Kaljaxian dialect—at least it was, long ago.

  That brought his right eyebrow up.

  “And how might that be,” he replied in Hirn.

  “I wish to speak to the clan leader. I’m told that would be a woman names Caryp-ser.”

  “You presume much, alien,” he responded coolly.

  “I am Jon Ryan, brood-mate to Sapale Carpo-tun. I have a place at the table and will not be addressed like a door-to-door salesman by my servant.” I was technically correct but, as usual, pressing my luck.

  “I do not know a Sapale Carpo-tun. Until I do—”

  “Fentort,” a voice called out harshly from behind him, “do not make family stand in the cold. Do not insult the brood-mate of such a legendary figure as Sapale.”

  Fentort stepped aside, opening the door to reveal a short old woman leaning heavily on a cane. She looked tough and gnarly.

  “Come in, Jon Ryan. I am Caryp-ser. Well don’t stand there like a statue. Move your feet.”

  “Thank you, Opalf.” Opalf was an honorific, kind of like godmother, but not implying the person was a gangster.

  “You speak the old tongue well. Did you learn it for her?” she said as she led me into an adjoining room.

  “Yes, mostly.”

  “Might I share that you look good for a two-billion-year-old brood-mate,” she snarked without looking back at me.

  “Thank you. I try.”

  She pointed a stubby boney finger at a chair. “Sit.” After I had, she continued. “I seem to recall her brood-mate was an android. Is that so?”

  “You have a remarkable memory.”

  “For an old crone? Is that what you were thinking?”

  “Never, Opalf.” I smiled my charming smile.

  “Enough with the Opalf crap. I’m Caryp. No time left in my days for trappings and wasted words.”

  “My pleasure.”

  “So, brood-mate of my ancestor, why have you come to our home?”

  Our home? Odd. Did she mean the clan’s home? It wasn’t. It was kind of the clan’s castle, passed from leader to leader, but it wasn’t a shared property.

  “I have only just arrived after a long trip. I w
anted to know the comforts of kazoon.” Kazoon was another uniquely Kaljaxian concept. The Spanish spoke of familiar, the intransitive verb to family. It meant to be with and be in the family. Kazoon was similar, but more intense. The clan gave life, and kazoon was that flow of spirit.

  “First Opalf, now kazoon. What are you, a dictionary of archaic terms designed to mystify an old woman? Seduce her into accepting the unlikely? Pafoo.” Her use of pafoo was self-explanatory.

  “To dishonor family is to dishonor oneself.” That was a foundational saying of Kaljax. I was challenging her as strongly as she was trying to rattle me.

  “You’re persistent, I’ll give you that.”

  “But so is a bad cough.”

  “Hah,” she blurted. “Persistent and clever. One other tiny question. I recall hearing tales of the mighty android Jon Ryan doing battle with the Adamant on Azsuram. First off, if you were he, you’d not be vacationing here. Second, you’d know damn well where your brood’s-mate was, because you’d have shipped her—”

  “Ah, I’m not that brood-mate of Sapale.”

  Her face fell. She was not expecting that. Good, I’d zinged her.

  “There’s more than one of that infernal wretch?”

  “Yes, Opalf,” came a sweet voice from the doorway, “there is one other. At least there was a very long time ago.”

  I turned slowly, like in the movies. There stood Sapale. It wasn’t a holo. It wasn’t a cardboard stand-up next to a computer. No, it was Sapale. The person who’d died in my arms billions of years earlier.

  “Hello, butthead. Nice to see you again,” she said with a crooked smile.

  “Either of you going to explain what the Brathos is going on before I pass of natural causes?” asked Caryp.

  “Long ago,” said Sapale as she began walking toward me, “there were two Jon Ryans. The one you’ve met, Opalf, is from an alternate future, which is now long in the past. That one returned through time to save his home world. This one, as I live and breathe, is the original Jon Ryan, the one I married and founded Azsuram with.”

  She brushed the back of her hand across my cheek.

  “I … I have one tiny question myself,” I said, still stunned.

  “I’m going out on a limb and answering the question now,” Sapale teased. “Remember what Toño told you?”

  “Ah, a clairvoyant brood’s-mate. What will they think of next to make the male’s life unlivable?”

  “You once asked Toño behind my back if he could make an android for a Kaljaxian. What did he tell you?” she said with insistence.

  “Give me a second. That was a while back.” I tapped my chin with a finger. “Something like it would take a long time?”

  “More or less.” She pointed at herself with both arms. “See what a little persistence can produce?”

  “I also recall you saying that you would never, as in at no time and in no manner, ever become an android.”

  “I was sentenced to be a disembodied voice in a metal box for all eternity. Why not at least step out into the light of day?”

  I pointed at her. “You’re the download Toño made?”

  “Yes. The one you cared for so little that you gave me to the first clone of yourself who came along.”

  “I probably deserved that, didn’t I?”

  “That and just a squeeze more.” She pinched my shoulder hard.

  “I need a drink,” said Caryp. She rang a small bell, and Fentort glided into the room.

  “Yes, mistress?” he said lugubriously.

  “Pacha, and quickly,” she snapped at him.

  “Mistress, your physicians…”

  “If I must repeat myself, I’ll tell them it was your idea and that you forced it on me.”

  “How many glasses shall I bring?”

  “None. Just the bottle, and make certain it's full.”

  Fentort rolled all four eyes but departed obediently.

  “So,” I stammered, “why are you here, as you know, opposed to …”

  “By my brood-mate’s side in battle?” Sapale finished my sentence.

  “You two didn’t have a split, did you?” I set my two index fingers together then peeled them off to the sides.

  “Is that wishful thinking, old love?”

  “Let’s just call it wishful interrogation for now.”

  “We did not split up.” She wrapped herself in her arms and turned to the window. “Two billion years is a long time to spend together. We have grown to have different opinions on many matters.”

  “On the need to defend Azsuram?” I asked, dumbfounded.

  “No. Never that. Just the hows and whys of it.”

  “Style points and nothing more?”

  “Hardly,” she replied contemptuously.

  “Then spell it out for me.”

  She looked like a lost child out the window about three heartbeats too long. “I’m not convinced he’s defending Azsuram. I think he’s using it.”

  “The difference being?”

  She sat in the chair nearest mine. “Look, if you had a hidden agenda you wanted to advance, the best place to do it is where you’re most likely to succeed, right?”

  I shrugged in the affirmative.

  “Jon can rally the entire planet based on his history and their determination. So, he has done just that.”

  “But what does he really want?”

  “Child,” said Caryp in a low growl, “be cautious how much you trust this one.”

  “As opposed to how much she can trust the other one?” I added harshly.

  “Precisely,” Caryp hissed. “What is it you humans say? Something about apples falling close to their trees?”

  “No, Opalf. I would trust this one with my life. Yours too.”

  “Don’t go investing what little time I have left in a grease peddler such as this,” Caryp batted a hand my way.

  “What does EJ really want?” I pressed.

  “EJ?” Sapale replied with a cocked head.

  “Evil Jon. Come on, you know how much I love nicknames.”

  She bobbed her head. “He wants power, Jon. EJ wants all the power that there is.”

  “Power? What does that mean? Energy or control over the masses?”

  “Energy, but it’s a lot more. EJ wants to be able to channel exotic matter, exotic energy.”

  “Say what?”

  “You know about exotic matter, right? It’s what powers the Adamant’s ships.”

  “Sure. I used it to take out one of their ships.” I pointed to my face. “Remember, Ph.D. in physics?”

  “We heard about that little stunt. Very nice. I’d have loved to have seen the look on the emperor’s face when he learned of that defeat. It’s the biggest they’ve ever suffered that we know about.”

  “It wasn’t that much of a thing.”

  “I know. That’s how good they are.”

  “Hey,” I said like the jock I was, “I defeated the Last Nightmare. One more bunch of tough guys isn’t such a big deal.”

  “The Nightmare were tricksters and cons. The Adamant are the real deal. Discipline, focus, and endless ambition.”

  “Back to the power thing. So, you’re saying EJ is fighting on Azsuram not to keep it free but to control exotic matter?”

  “Sort of. He wants to defeat the Adamant so he can get his hands on their exotic matter tech.”

  “Isn’t there another way to get the tech without having to slog it out in the trenches? The fighting there was pretty intense.”

  “I know. I was there for a while. And the answer until now has been no. We’ve tried to infiltrate, bribe, or torture our way to the information. Nothing’s worked. That's why EJ decided his best bet was to overrun an EM system on Azsuram.”

  “If he defeats the dogs, doesn’t the end justify the means?” I asked.

  “Jon, he’s throwing the locals under the bus, not helping them. Azsuramegian losses are disproportionate and staggering. He doesn’t use them like pawns in a chess game bec
ause pawns are valued more.”

  “And that’s why you’re here.”

  “Crap in a plastic bag, you know me too well,” she responded with a sad smile.

  “Well, he’s not there now,” I announced.

  She was shocked by that revelation. “What happened? Why?”

  He hadn’t bothered to tell her. The SOB. “I was there. The fighting was one bloody stalemate. Then EJ wanted me gone, so he puffed me to Earth with his magic. In the couple of weeks it's taken me to get back, the Adamant are in complete control on the ground and in space.”

  She twisted her face in thought. Finally, she said, “What could have made him leave just like that?”

  “I think he went after the Deft kids.”

  “Wait, what Deft kids?”

  “Honey, I think he was keeping you in the dark, kind of major league.”

  “I told you, Sapale. The man is gone. The machine is all that is left,” Caryp spoke harshly. I thought she might spit on the floor she sounded so disgusted. She glared at yours truly too.

  “I saved a Deft teenage girl from the extermination ship I torched. I picked up a younger male a while later Locinar. I think they may well be the last of their kind.”

  “Curse him to the pits of Brathos,” snarled Sapale.

  “I'm sorry he deceived you, Sapale. I truly am. You deserve much better.”

  She looked at me with icy determination. “Don't presume to know either of us so well, man of the past.”

  “I can tell he has not kept you informed or been honest with you. That you curse him speaks volumes.”

  “Yes, there are walls between him and me that cannot be breeched.”

  “So, what, there’s a chance you and I might be getting back together?” I said with a patented Jon smirk.

  “Are you ever serious?” she asked incredulously.

  “Why bother? Life’s too short.”

  She harrumphed.

  “So, why is he interested in the Deft?” I asked, back to being semi-adult again.

  “He’s obsessed with them. He dragged me from one side of the galaxy to the other and back ten times over looking for the legendary Deft.”