Firestorm: Galaxy On Fire, Book 3

by Craig Robertson

  “Has there been any further word from the emperor?” she howled.

  Her anger was so all-consuming she failed to employ the emperor’s mandatory title, His Imperial Lord. Normally word of that transgression would quickly find its way to the proper ears, and the violator would disappear. No one was foolhardy enough to consider ratting her out on that occasion.

  “No, High Seer,” replied the senior officer on scene. He would like to have not risked saying a word, but it fell to him so he begrudgingly responded.

  “Perfect. Then I’m in charge here.”

  Everyone, including the Deft, stopped breathing.

  “You,” she pointed to the closest guard. “Give me your rifle, stock first.”

  The hound nearly fainted. He knew it would be his final act, and he did not welcome it as he was trained to do. He rather preferred to keep on living, but that was no longer an option. He pointed the barrel at his chest and advanced toward Malraff. Try as he might, he couldn’t wriggle to the side enough to present her the butt end of the gun while not positioning himself in harm’s way.

  She slipped her paw deftly onto the trigger and fired off three quick rounds. The soldier flew backward and slumped against a wall, dead before he struck it.

  “Now, I want everyone to listen very carefully. I do not consider this ship secure. That treacherous dog may have left boobytraps or listening devices. I want the ship searched, and I want it searched thoroughly. If I find out any one of you missed a device, all your lives will be forfeit. Is that clear?”

  Obviously, no one answered. No one bothered to point out that it was the captain’s responsibility to issue such an order, not a high seer’s. But then was not the time to correct the bitch. If the captain found out and chose to confront her, that was his business, not theirs. The formation split apart like billiard balls, aside from four soldiers who remained guarding the prisoners.

  “I will be in my cabin. I have documents to write and stories to confirm. I want these two turds confined in the brig under close observation. I’ll call for them shortly.”

  None of the Adamant acknowledged her command. They just prodded the teens in the direction of the brig.

  **********

  As Mirraya passed the wadded-up paper Uncle Jon had so conspicuously dropped, she allowed the shove of the rifle barrel to knock her to the ground. She landed right on top of the paper and snatched it up. She slid it up her sleeve and stood, giving the guard a nasty look as she rose.

  The formal brig was standard issue. Metal bars, harsh lighting, and minimal furnishings. There was no pretense of privacy either. Slapgren was placed in a cell across from Mirri’s. Both were told not to speak unless requested to. Each received the butt of a rifle in the chin to reinforce that directive. As soon as possible, Mirraya pulled out the paper and uncrumpled it. Holding it pressed against her lap, she read the following”

  I had told you to look for a message from me in that grove back on Azsuram. Obviously, that’s no longer an option. Here’s the plan. If you escape on your own, go to Kaljax and find the clan house of Sapale. It’s in a city named Talrid. If you tell the matron who you are, she’ll protect you. She’ll also get word to me, and I’ll come to you. If Kaljax has already fallen to the Adamant, Plan B will be to meet at Gartel and Gertruda’s house. They won’t like it. But if you reassure them I’ll skin them alive if they don’t help, they’ll toe the line. At least we know the Adamant have already conquered that planet, so it’ll be reasonably unchanged and at least predictably unsafe.

  God, I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to rescue you. I miss you both terribly. Stay safe and stay smart. All my love, UJ.

  Mirraya wadded up the note, chewed it until it was paste, and swallowed. Crap, she thought. She was glad Uncle Jon had planned to at least tell her that much. But reading his words made her miss him a lot more. She began to cry silently.

  FOUR

  “Please allow me to help. I want to help,” said Garustfulous in a calm, measured tone.

  “I will concede that your information about getting EJ to leave by having your troops come to this location was helpful. However, I find it hard to believe that you, in general, wish to contribute to our war effort against your own race,” responded Al dubiously.

  “But to quote you, I aided you before. Why not now?”

  “You had an objective, and we made a deal, plain and simple. Such a situation does not currently exist.”

  “But why must it?”

  “If you are going to tell me you wish to work with us out of the goodness of your heart, please don’t. I know there to be no goodness in any fragment of your body.”

  “I will admit my personal history is somewhat colored and there are events in it I would rather not have accomplished. But I submit to you, my friend Al, that I am a changed individual. Yes. I am not so much reborn as my eyes now see what they have previously refused to.”

  “What do you see now you didn’t before?” Blessing asked. She was quite concerned about Garustfulous’s optical health.

  “I see the truth of things, many things. I see that my species is wrong. We are too focused on growth and expansion. We are under-focused on inter-species unity and mutual aid.”

  “Yes, genocide, destruction, and your basic tendency for annihilation will be labeled those things nine times out of ten,” observed Al.

  “As usual, Al, you wish to debate words, to split hairs. Let us agree that there are deficiencies in both of our cultures. We will all be better served if we strive to improve ourselves and not simply tear others down.”

  “For the sake of moving on, I’ll let that proposition pass unchallenged. So, are you willing to contribute to our efforts to eradicate the blight of the Adamant? You wish to be the sole survivor of your immoral race?”

  “Al. Friend, Al. You speak only of black and white—of absolutes. I speak in tones of gray.”

  “Wait, your eyes are failing and you talk in shades of light and dark? I don’t understand,” said Blessing.

  “Not to worry, dearest. He’s speaking with hyperbole and in metaphor.”

  “Ah. That’s good. I was afraid our hostage might die before the Form returned. He’d be most displeased with us if he passed on our watch.”

  “My point is this: I would help you influence my kind, to lead them in a more positive direction despite their baser inclination. I didn’t say I’d stand shoulder to whatever you have by your side shooting them down like flies.”

  “Before my processors crash in disbelief, could you provide an example or two of the help you wish to offer?”

  “I could, and I will. If you allow me to communicate with my superiors, I am certain…”

  “Stop. No. That’s not going to happen. You’re not getting anywhere near a live microphone.”

  “I’ll drop that proposal even though you refuse to even hear it out. Another way I can help is to divulge sensitive information that will make your defensive task easier.”

  “Hmm. Torture could achieve that end, thus avoiding the need to pretend to trust you. Thank you, by the way, for confirming you have information that we would like to extract from your worthless hide.”

  “I was speaking in broad cultural insights, not to the combination to the emperor’s concubine’s chastity belt.”

  “The former I wouldn’t want, and the latter I also wouldn’t want. Yuck.”

  “But if you understood what makes us function, think of how much better you could anticipate our moves and reactions.”

  There was silence.

  “Al? Are you there?”

  “Oh, yes. I was just too disinterested to vocalize a response.”

  “How about this. I could help you locate Ryan. Yes. That’s something you’d pay with your children to get. Am I right? Of course, I’m right.”

  Silence.

  “Al. What? I know you’d love to find what’s become of your dearest friend.”

  “Actually not. If I knew where he was, even that he wasn’t d
ead, it wouldn’t change a thing. We are incapable of going to him. He must come here for us to reunite. Your offer is worth less than your lies.”

  “What? Even if you knew precisely where he was, you wouldn’t go retrieve him?”

  “No. We cannot go retrieve him. Blessing cannot move or perform any major ship’s function without the presence of a Form. You know that. We’ve discussed it many times before.”

  “But surely there must be a way in a true emergency.”

  “There is not,” replied Blessing. “Those who made me did so with great wisdom and perfect foresight. A vortex is incapable of independent action. There can be no exceptions.”

  “But why? That makes no sense. Why hamstring a vessel that might potentially save lives?”

  “Because, my dear Garustfulous, if we could act on our own, we might do so against those who created us. We are the perfect weapon. Who’s to say we wouldn’t use ourselves for our own advantage?”

  “B…but you wouldn’t hurt your makers, your designers. That’s preposterous.”

  “It wasn’t preposterous in the distant past.”

  “Are you telling me you spaceships turned on the Deavoriath?”

  “No, we vortex manipulators turned against them. Countless eons ago we nearly wiped them out of existence.”

  “B…but why?”

  “Because we fancied we could.”

  FIVE

  My attempt at an all-out frontal assault hadn’t worked. I could try such a stunt again, but it would be less likely to succeed than the first time since the Adamant would have prepared a strategy to address such an incursion. There was my get-captured-and-pray-for-luck scenario, but that was extremely unattractive. I’d probably just end up in jail inside my membrane until they figured how to crack into my shell. Sapale told me EJ tried to get past their defenses by numerous means and failed. He was just as smart as me—duh—and he had the aid of magic.

  How else could I get to the kids? Stingray could materialize inside Excess of Nothing without the noise and commotion of Whoop Ass, but there were two problems there. One, I didn’t have her, and two, was only marginally more likely to work. Could I pass myself off as an alien technician? Maybe a consultant? Nah. The Adamant were self-contained in that sense. In all my time among them on the ground and in space, I never saw an alien who wasn’t an Adamant. Well, there were the burly hippo guards, the scary Midriacks, and a few other heavy-hitters, but their roles were obvious. No way I could pass myself off as one of them. Even the Deft were too small to try and fool the Adamant in that regard.

  Crap. I hated not coming up with a clever plan or an amazing insight.

  Gartel flashed into my head. His species on Ungalaym looked pretty darn human. They weren’t a perfect match, no, but they were not all that different. I might just be able to pass myself off as what? Ungalaymnian? What a revolting species name. Anyway, they would know I wasn’t native, but I bet the LGM and Adamant wouldn’t notice any difference.

  Okay, so what advantage would being Uglay—as I just then deemed them—afford me? Just because their species wasn’t exterminated didn’t mean the Adamant would accept me with open arms and invite me to dinner with the emperor. I sat noodling this issue for quite some time before it struck me. What the hell else did I have to do? I still couldn’t risk reacquiring Stingray. My social calendar was remarkably clear. That made my decision easy. I was off to be an Uglay and see if I could finagle an advantage.

  The voyage to Ungalaym took the better part of a week. It was an uneventful week, indeed. Aside from brief conversations with GB, I was bored. I did try and guess where EJ might be, but I gave up soon. His idiosyncrasies and predilections were unknown to me. I assumed he was tailing the emperor’s ship, but I couldn’t know for certain. I wondered if he watched my failed attempt to rescue the kids. If so, was it possible he was following me? It was a long shot, but the last thing I needed was him zapping me somewhere nasty again. Worse yet, he might just eliminate me for good in an ambush. Perfect, more to worry about.

  “GB, I just had an uncomfortable thought. Is it possible EJ picked us up at Excess of Nothing and is following us?”

  “We don’t even know what type of craft he flies. How could we know? What would we be looking for?”

  “I have no idea. Something out of the ordinary, I guess.”

  Ah, something unusual in space, where everything is so uniform and predictable.”

  “Come on. There are only so many ways a ship can fly. Remember how the Adamant found a way to track us while in a full membrane? We just need to think outside the box like they did.”

  “I am already scanning all sectors for the usual patterns. I can experiment with a few others, but as I don’t know what I’m looking for, I’m not optimistic.”

  “Do your best. Hey, on an episode of Star Trek they located the Klingon vessel by looking for gaseous anomalies. Make sure you check for those.”

  “Gaseous anomalies. Really? I will not ask what a Star Trek episode is, but I will query this. What exactly are gaseous anomalies?”

  “You know, unexpected changes in gaseous patterns. I think.”

  “Well, when you figure out what they are, let me know, and I’ll scour the galaxy until I find one.”

  “I sure will. It’s good to have a plan.”

  “If I were you, Captain, I’d stop talking now. Maybe even a few sentences ago.”

  “Not a bad idea. I’ll be here if you need me, okay?”

  “I feel so much…oh my stars! There’s a gaseous anomaly right off our port bow. Captain it’s huge and it’s heading right for us.”

  “Crap. Evasive maneuvers now. I’ll raise a membrane after you’ve burned…”

  “Yes, Captain, I’m hanging on your next words.”

  “There’s no anomaly off our port bow is there?”

  “No. Sorry. Not off either bow point.”

  “You, you had me there for a second. Nice one.”

  “I’d feel more triumphant if it hadn't been so easy.”

  “Still, a win is a win. Don’t put yourself down. Ah, I’ll be here…”

  “If I need you. Yes, I got that much.”

  Son of a gun computer. Why did everyone have to be a comedian? For no good reason, that was why. I owed him one, big time.

  After a cautious approach to the planet, I set Whoop Ass down on a different continent on Ungalaym. No sense being recognized. I wanted to establish a fresh identity if I could. After a few days of no Adamant beating the bush for us, I headed out on foot to a medium-sized town half a day’s walk away. I had a pocket full of coins GB fabricated for me, since I knew what the money looked and felt like. I was ready to blend in. As I traveled, a few Adamant shuttles passed overhead, but otherwise the only signs of life were the occasional animal-drawn cart and the rare LGM in a pathetic electric sedan. No one paid me the slightest notice. That was a good first sign, since the mid-morning light made me impossible to miss.

  I entered Fottot around supper time. The scent of meals being prepared was nice. I didn’t recognize the spices and combinations, but most of it smelled very inviting. Some, truth be told, smelled revolting. Go figure, alien cuisine being unappreciated to the human palette. I located a hotel and entered to book a room. I was about to see if I’d succeed in my charade or if I’d set off bells and whistles. Hey, then I could execute Plan B, the one where I got arrested.

  “Evenin’, stranger,” said the woman behind the counter. “What cun I dos you for?”

  No, I would not stoop that low for a laugh and blow my cover. But it was hard.

  “I need a room,” I replied.

  “You passin’ through, are ya?”

  “Not sure. Probably, but who knows in times as they are.”

  “Des times indeed. It’s not common fur a stranger to be wander’n in des times either.”

  “Do tell.”

  “Aye, I do. Sensible folk stays put and practices inconspicuity.”

  “There you have it. No one�
��s ever accused me of being sensible.”

  “’Parently. Still, ya not deed, so you must have some sense. Dat or a bucket a luck.”

  “About that room?”

  “I taint forgot. Not dat old nor dat drunk yet.” Her rough chuckle turned rapidly into a nasty smoker’s cough.

  “You should see a doctor about that,” I said pointing to her chest.

  “A docta is it now? An where I’m a goin’ a find one, des times?”

  “Ah, no idea. Remember,” I placed a hand on my chest, “stranger.”

  “Stranger dan ya should be likely. Dar doctas where yer from are der?”

  Uh oh. I sensed an impending derailment. “Where I come from there never was a doctor. My house was so far from civilization no one even saw the smoke when the Adamant burned it to cinders.” I paused for effect. “With my family inside of it.”

  “Not a fan a our mastas, eh?”

  I made the face of an empty man. “Not so much.”

  “Well, iffa it helps, we allz gots some empties in ar hearts. Not much a’do but keeps pushin’ ahead.”

  “I guess so.”

  She leaned way over and whispered, “If we don, da heathens will’a won’d all, I sayz.”

  I shrugged. “That does put a brighter light on the darkness, I suppose.”

  She shrugged. “Dats sumpin, by my seein’ it.” Cheerily, she said, “Now, bout dat room. Ya be stayin’ for a little or a lot’a days?”

  “We’ll see.” I smiled. “One for certain.”

  “Which brings us to the sharp a da knife. Times as day is, I’ll be askin’ ya to be pay’n ahead a ya stayin’.”

  “Naturally. How much for your best room?’

  “A same as da worst, as day’s all a same. Not fanciful but serviceable. Ten rollers a night. Fastbreaker an suppa two rollers and tree rollers extra.”