Aerlix was very aware of his people’s focus on themselves, how insular their society was. When he was young, he had traveled to multiple other planets. He had been trying to explain to his own people that to play on the larger stage they would need to be less judgmental of others.
Now it might be too late.
He shook off the offer from a few to help cover him from the sunlight bearing down on him. He was sweating, but he doubted it was from the heat.
Rather, he could see the shape in the distance coming over the horizon. Clouds parted in front of it as the massive nose of the ship pierced the sky, ignoring the laws of the gods and gravity as it floated through the atmosphere.
The ArchAngel II had arrived.
His eyes flicked away from the alien’s ship as he saw his Air Force’s jets at its sides. He appreciated that the massive starship didn’t just swat them like the little insects they probably were to it.
It was doubtful if any of their bombs would do anything to the shield that ship could produce. Ten minutes earlier, the Air Force had decided to play chicken with the ship.
And lost.
The warning had been clear, but the distance the Air Force was told to maintain had been breached.
The fighter that had been tasked with accidentally coming too close had been halted in mid-air by some sort of tractor beam. The video had captured the pilot trying to eject.
He made it a full three planes’ distance into the air before he too was caught in the tractor beam and pulled into the ship.
So far the Etheric Empire had been rather patient with his people, for all the good he felt it was going to do.
The ship’s shadow began to cross his city. He could see it travel down the street in front of him, its darkness creating the illusion of a monster consuming the buildings to the left and right.
Then she was simply there in the street two blocks away. She had four guards around her, and she seemed rather irritated.
If he was any judge of her physiology.
President Aerlix stepped up to the microphone and tapped it, making sure it was on. “Empress Bethany Anne, our sincere apologies for the mess-up.”
No one expected the apology to accomplish much, so Aerlix was surprised when the Empress’ eyes started fading back to normal, and her face ceased to radiate fire.
She stopped about twenty feet from the podium, hands on her hips as she eyed the President. “Well, that’s a lot better response than I expected, President Aerlix, considering my experience just a little while ago.” She looked around at the video cameras from the news agencies and a few people who had arrived hours ahead of schedule to get good seats before returning her gaze to the President.
“Perhaps we might have a better discussion inside? I’m not really up to a speech today.”
President Aerlix reached down to his microphones and started pulling them off. Unclipping the last one, he dropped all the electronics on the podium and walked toward the steps leading to the street.
Two of his guards looked at him, then at each other and then realized he was going, with or without them, so they quickly caught up and went down the stairs alongside him.
“I hope it would not be amiss…” the president began. She had on armor, and he noticed weapons on her suit. He continued, “If we have the conversations on your ship? Perhaps it would be a bit safer.”
Apparently, the videos hadn’t been manufactured. She really was the Warrior Empress. The Boogeyman, they called her.
“For me?” she asked, amusement written in her eyes.
“No,” he admitted, “for my people.” He looked around. “I would hope that if I were on the ship, they won’t be so quick to shoot.”
Bethany Anne could hear the guards speaking into their microphones, warning the others of the president’s plans.
“Request accepted,” she told him and stepped forward to grasp his hand. Her Guards closed in, and the eight of them disappeared.
—
In bars across the planet, the televisions were turned to the news. Patrons watched, talked, and ordered drinks even though their last drinks were still on the table, full.
They forgot to drink.
The alien had grabbed their president and his guards and disappeared. There were some who wanted to attack the massive ship above the capital.
Even when the military pundits explained it would rip apart the city and kill untold millions in the capital, they could not be dissuaded.
They relished the opportunity to attack those different from them, no matter the cost to those who lived in the blast zone.
Their gods were mayhem, destruction, and death, not necessarily in that order.
Many of the less inebriated told them to shut the hell up. The stupid little fucker deserved what he got.
By then, the pundits watching the many videos of the Empress’ parade and the altercation had been able to pinpoint what had actually happened and who had started the problem.
It was clearly the teen Jhrex. His stabbing of the young Yollin had caused her to push people over in the crowd ahead of the Empress.
While the Noel-ni were not fond of aliens, they weren’t fond of their own people stepping out of line either. Therefore, the general consensus was that he needed to be punished.
However, his punishment, the video wags suggested, shouldn’t include being eaten by an alien, either.
Bethany Anne knew all this since ADAM had been watching the multiple channels, translating and pulling together the common threads from the news reports.
“I don’t eat kids,” Bethany Anne growled to John Grimes when the two of them were alone—the President was being shown around ArchAngel. She walked over to the machine that could give her some coffee. She didn’t need it for the pump of caffeine; she needed it to feel human again.
“Boss,” John called to Bethany Anne, then nodded to one of the ship’s crew who had stepped into the small eating area. When he saw the Empress’ expression, he decided that maybe he could get a snack from one of the other areas on the ship. “What do you expect, exactly?”
John walked over and accepted the cup of coffee Bethany Anne had pulled for him. “Well, not being called a cannibal would be nice.”
“Can you be a cannibal if you aren’t eating your own kind?” John asked, then took a sip of his coffee.
She looked at him. “Really? I’m all upset because they think I might eat their children, and you want to know the etiology… Wait, is that the right word?”
“Don’t know, what are you going for?” John asked.
“The history of a word as much as the definition,” she clarified.
>>You are looking for ‘Etymology’.<<
Thanks!
“Ok, I meant etymology,” Bethany Anne corrected herself.
John walked over and stuck his head out of the little kitchen area, then pulled it back in. “Must be nice having a speaking dictionary with you at all times.”
“It has its benefits, that’s for sure,” she agreed, “but occasionally there is a downside.”
“Like what?” John asked.
>>Like what?<< ADAM echoed.
“ADAM is a best friend who never sleeps and never forgets unless I specifically command him to forget something, in which case he will delete the knowledge from his storage. For an encore, he now is best friends with an alien who can make the most frustrating comments at times.”
“How much storage does he have?” John wondered aloud.
ADAM’s voice came over the speaker in the room. “Let’s just say the old libraries don’t hold a candle to my memory stack, Mr. Grimes.”
John chuckled. “Occasionally I forget I could just ask him myself.”
“Pretty much,” Bethany Anne agreed. “And that is the last thing. My two friends are with me twenty-four seven by three-sixty-five.”
You would miss us, TOM claimed.
I would eventually, that’s true, she agreed.
>>How long do you think it w
ould take?<<
Longer than both of you would believe, but way shorter than I would believe.
>>I’ve done the calculations, Bethany Anne.<<
Of course you have, she butted in, but ADAM ignored her.
>>We have never been out of communication, not including sleep time, for more than four hours and sixteen minutes. In any instances longer than three hours and forty-seven minutes, it was you who instigated the communication.<<
Huh. She thought about that a moment. That is way shorter than I would have thought. I’ll have to see if there is a subconscious need on my part to check in, or if you guys are just that needy and I’m trying to make sure you are ok.
>>How can an AI be needy?<<
You’re a guy. Guys are always needy.
>>That doesn’t even make sense.<<
Actually, I might have to agree with her on that one. Even Kurtherian males can be needy at times.
>>Well,<< ADAM made a sniffing noise on their connection, >>I am not needy.<<
Suit yourself, she told him. She could feel the two of them talking as she disengaged.
John continued their conversation. “Given that we’re on a ‘hearts and minds’ mission, can I say you pretty much suck at it?”
“That’s what I was trying to explain to Cheryl Lynn,” she grumbled before downing the rest of her coffee. She tossed the recyclable cup into the proper chute. “I’m not the right person to place in front of others, considering my previous methods of negotiation.”
John took a sip, eyeing her a moment before commenting, “You mean if you aren’t able to just slap them around for being stupid.”
Bethany Anne didn’t answer him for a moment. “I have a short temper.” She pulled a chair out from the table.
“I wouldn’t sit there if I were you,” John told her.
She raised her eyebrows in confusion, looking at the chair and back at John. “What am I missing?”
“Weight?” John asked. “Remember three weeks ago when you sat in one of the chairs on the Meredith Reynolds?”
“And squished it.” TOM added through the speakers.
Bethany Anne looked at the speaker and zapped her friend mentally. Don’t ever suggest a woman is heavy!
She turned to John. “I took care of that.”
But, TOM asked, you are wearing armor. It isn’t like I’m saying you’re fat.
And you had better not, or we will have a discussion that will make you wish for the days you were in the doghouse.
Strangely enough, TOM was silent for a few moments.
Bethany Anne sat down, and the chair didn’t bow in the slightest. “I asked ADAM to pay attention and adjust my weight to normal me if I was about to do something stupid like sitting on a chair or table that wasn’t rated for my armored weight.”
John just shrugged and turned around, sticking his head back out the door, “Incoming, president and his posse.”
Bethany Anne stood back up. “Be right back.” She sidestepped and disappeared. A moment later, she returned holding the Noel-ni teenager. She pointed to the chair and in his language told him, “Take a seat.”
The youth, face wet with tears and eyes full of fright, nodded and sat down. Bethany Anne observed that he didn’t even move when the president walked in and noticed him sitting there.
She spoke first. “I have someone from your world I believe you would like back. He has purposely hurt one of my people. However, I would consider releasing him, if you provide me one of mine in exchange.”
Aerlix’ eye only twitched slightly when he saw the youth. “Oh? Who would that be exactly?” If he could get back to the world with the youth unhurt, it would go a long way toward shutting down his detractors. Some, he was sure, were calling on everyone to toss the Empress off their world right now.
Sometimes trying to govern an insular society into the future could be a challenge. Aerlix had come into his position thinking he would be able to help change his people’s parochial focus, but he’d had little success so far. The damned Insularists called for more and more military, but frankly his people needed more infrastructure, not more bombs.
But fear was what drove them, so fear was what he had to deal with. Elections were just two seasons away, and he doubted he would be able to pull off a second term. Sometimes what you thought was best wasn’t what the rest of your people believed should be.
He had wanted to give peace a chance, but what could one do? This Empress had just shown his people how pitifully weak they were. The Etheric Empire had upped the game.
This meant that the neighborhood had just gotten more dangerous, as everyone would be trying to catch up. The Etheric Empire might be focusing on the Kurtherians, but they had—unwittingly or not—just changed the dynamics of the political groups in this area of space.
If he leaned that way, Aerlix could build a military supply company and ride the wave of investment that was bound to happen when another group came into power.
Until that happened, however, he needed to make peace with the Empress. Creating a group of people that felt strong enough to shake lasers at the Etheric Empire would have to be the role of some other government after him.
—
Two days later, the Etheric Empire left the Noel-ni capital.
Their consulate on the planet had been hit with a hundred and eighty-two requests to repatriate Yollins back to Yoll, if the Empress would help them.
She commanded one of her ships to stay behind and gave everyone forty-eight hours to make it to the shuttles for liftoff.
It would take that long for D’leck’s husband to be returned from the prison planet. Whether D’leck wished him back in the future or not, Bethany Anne refused to allow him to waste away.
Perhaps, like Bethany Anne herself, Sis’tael would appreciate a closer relationship with her father sometime in the future.
Even old hardheads, Bethany Anne had come to understand, could learn something about being wrong.
The Noel-ni Congress had wanted to play hardball until they understood that Bethany Anne would retrieve the father whether Congress approved or not.
And no.
Bethany Anne would have no problem dropping a rock, a really big rock, right on top of their building.
If they wanted to continue painting her as a child-eating alien bitch, then by God she would play that bitch for all it was worth.
There wasn’t anything the aliens had called her, she realized, that her own people back on Earth hadn’t called her in the past.
This time though, she didn’t shed any tears in the night with only TOM to console her.
Fuck them all!
CHAPTER TWELVE
QBBS Meredith Reynolds, Team BMW’s Official Office Area
The drone was small, barely large enough to have the four legs it used for movement. It was as small as an aphid, and could hide in the tiniest of crevices.
Three of them had finally made their way to the designated target’s door.
In a booth in a bar near All Guns Blazing on the second floor, an Ixtali casually drank a human beverage he enjoyed. It was something called “root beer.” It had none of the alcohol of beer, and was sweet. With the straws the bar supplied, X’telent could sip the beverage and swipe through the tablet, whiling away time after he had held strategy sessions with others who utilized the safety of the Empire’s personal meeting rooms.
A splendid cover for his covert efforts.
With the useless council working with the Etheric Empress, it had seemed X’telent’s abilities would go unused.
Until now.
Now he was an open resource, his talents for sale to the highest bidder. Why the idiots didn’t worry that someone might use the fact that their own space station was a safety zone against them, X’telent couldn’t understand.
But that wasn’t his problem.
He had been hired to find out about the R&D technology. He had been smart enough to figure out that the obvious location for research and develo
pment, the well-known Dukes Lab, was too well protected.
Even he wasn’t surprised when his nanos got zapped far away from the inner sanctum. Further, he couldn’t figure a way into the lab through the walls. He just didn’t have the technology to drill through the rock walls into the core.
However, the beer-drinking researchers were something else entirely. It took him less than a week of his spybots listening in All Guns Blazing to figure out they were the ones who had come up with the powerful blast of energy which kept this base safe.
Once he had figured out the location—nicely hidden behind the bar itself—X’telent set his most advanced spybots loose. Actually, he had set three teams of spybots loose.
One went in fast and had been fried immediately. X’telent did further testing and found out that would have been the normal result, no matter where he loosed the bots.
His second team of bots fared better. They got within thirty human feet of the security door before they were found and killed.
But his final team, the ones which plodded along, had passed the last zone of destruction yesterday morning. They would enter as soon as one of the members went into the sanctum.
Which would happen after lunch.
One or more of them always went back there, and his spybots had watched them pass each time.
He reached for his drink, mandibles clicking together in anticipation.
Kitchen area, All Guns Blazing
Inside William’s ear, his name was called. “William, this is Meredith.”
William inhaled deeply and let out his breath. He subvocalized, “Do I have to be the one?”
“Yes.”
“Why?” he asked.
“It’s your regular day,” she replied.
William shook all over, and slapped his arms. “But, it makes me itch to even think that some microscopic little metal bugs are jumping on me.” he said, keeping his voice to himself.
It was a moment before Meredith replied, “Bobcat says that if you don’t hurry up, he will have to do it.”
“Well, that’s fine by—”
“And the whole time he is doing it, he is going to tell the story about your trip to New Orleans back in ’08… No, he changed it to ’09.”
Might Makes Right (The Kurtherian Gambit Book 18) Page 11
