Andromeda's Rebel

by Debra Jess

  "So how did the Shadows take control of the colony?" Tamarja had to interrupt the bickering, or she'd never get the information she needed.

  "The usual politicking," Joran answered. "We promised them more bargaining power and better prices if they would let us negotiate with the few independent cargo carriers left instead of relying on Manitac."

  "What went wrong?" she asked. Waiting to remember on her own would take too long.

  "Manitac pulled out the next day―literally," Daeven said. "All of their ships launched, and they dumped the cargo they were carrying into space."

  "Did the Shadows contact the independent carriers?" They might have contacted her father—more gaps in her memory she'd need to fill.

  "Of course we did, but none of them would risk crossing the blockade Manitac set up to prevent anyone from reaching the system, never mind the colony itself."

  "You were there?" she asked Joran.

  He nodded.

  "And you?" She looked at Daeven.

  He shook his head. "My brother was there, though. He was elected to the governing council."

  "We tried to show them that they didn't need Manitac," Joran continued. "We tried to show them how to make their own food, how to make use of the other resources on the colony, but it was too little, too late. The population panicked at being cut off from the Unity Homeport. The rioting started a few days later. By the time things calmed down and we'd counted the dead, we lost over half the population. All Manitac had to do was waltz back in and offer to clean up the mess."

  "Your brother?" Tamarja looked at Daeven.

  His jaw ground together before he finally opened it to answer. "They beat him to death."

  So that was the source of his pain, that haunted look she saw when she studied his face closely. Her pent-up desire to hurt someone―anyone―dissipated. She remembered how close to love she felt for Daeven. She wanted to reach out and touch his face, smooth back his hair, and ease the survivor's guilt.

  "I'm sorry, Daeven. Really very sorry that it ended that way."

  He just shook his head. There wasn't anything any of them could do. And as much as she would like to at least try to ease Daeven's pain, she loved Rory. Anything she might have felt for Daeven had to be buried, and soon.

  "So how will Dawn's Landing be different?" she asked.

  "It'll be a true Shadow colony," Joran explained.

  Daeven appeared lost in his own thoughts, maybe remembering his brother.

  Joran went on. "Anyone who doesn't want to be here will be shipped off world with the director and her cronies. The infrastructure already in place will make this colony completely independent from both Manitac and Unity. The rich resources here will keep us from falling victim like Stratos. Once we control this end of the slipstream, we can control who enters our territory. We can keep Manitac out and develop our own contracts with other like-minded colonies."

  "You're conquering Dawn's Landing," she clarified.

  "We're fighting Manitac on their own terms. We had to learn to be as ruthless as they are."

  Tamarja nodded as her mind raced ahead. So many things could go wrong.

  "How do you plan to shut down Jarvis Station?"

  Daeven rubbed his jaw, his pain fading from his face as he turned his attention to strategy. "We're still working on that."

  "I can help. My collar allows me access to Jarvis Station."

  More silent looks cast her way.

  "We'll see," was all Joran would say.

  "I'd better get you back to Facility Prime." Daeven dissolved the doors to the floater to let Joran out and helped Tamarja into the passenger front seat. Part of her didn’t want him to touch her, but her unsteady legs didn’t give her a choice.

  They didn't say much to each other on the ride back. Which was just as well, because Tamarja had plans of her own to make. Daeven said it wasn't her place to decide when and where others should make a stand. She no longer cared what others thought. Both Manitac and the Shadows had crossed lines risking other people's lives. They decided for where to fight when suited their own purposes. Both sides had caused deaths or mind-wipes.

  So who were they to tell her she couldn't make her own stand? She would gamble with the lives of everyone on Dawn's Landing before the end of the next day. A gamble she had to win. When she first stepped onto the firm soil of Dawn's Landing, she had been perfectly content to seek a quiet, peaceful life here. Now she knew better. She could never live that life so long as people were disappearing.

  When she told Daeven she held the key to taking down Manitac and rebuilding the Andromeda Galaxy, she had been kidding. Now she knew it was true.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  They didn't have much to say to one another during the journey back to Facility Prime. Daeven commented only when they discovered AuRaKaz security back in place at the garage checkpoint. Maybe the director had accomplished something during her talks with Manitac over at the spaceport. With AuRaKaz security on the job, the Shadow plan for knocking out Jarvis Station had just gotten a little easier.

  Morning couldn't arrive soon enough for Tamarja, so she bid good night to Daeven without inviting him inside. Ironically, she now slept soundly without dreams of Rory. Maybe she did dream and just didn't remember? Regardless, she woke early, dressed in her uniform, and proceeded directly to the executive suite, where she asked the receptionist for a meeting with the director.

  Tamarja reached out and snagged the receptionist's hand when she saw her jacking into the wrong channel.

  "I need to see the director. Not Ramsey."

  The receptionist started to argue, but Tamarja didn’t relent. "The director only. It's about her meeting with Manitac yesterday. I overheard something she needs to know about."

  The receptionist still hesitated but jacked into the director's channel and explained who was here to see her and why. Tamarja couldn't hear a response, but the door leading to the director's office dissolved behind the receptionist's desk.

  "Thank you."

  The receptionist gave her a look that screamed Luck of the Guardians to you―you'll need it.

  The director's office looked exactly the same as it had the first time. The bright morning light of dawn illuminated the whole room with a warmth that made even the cool personality of the director seem lighter. The director herself appeared luminous in her brightly colored clothes. Tamarja wondered if brilliance was a trick of the light or the essence of it was the director's personality shining through.

  It had to be a trick of the light.

  The director didn't bother to acknowledge Tamarja's entrance. The woman continued to work her stylus deftly through pages of projected data as Tamarja took it upon herself to sit in one of the chairs opposite her desk. She waited until the director was ready to talk.

  "If you have something to say, say it. I don't have time for pleasantries."

  The director continued to work on her data, so Tamarja said what she had come to say. "I know what is in the mountain. I want to be a part of your plan."

  Tamarja almost missed the slight flick of the director's wrist that didn't have anything to do with manipulating her display. She couldn't miss, however, the sudden pressure in her ears—one she had only experienced before now in an unshielded, rapid descent through the atmosphere—as vents snapped closed and a privacy shield shot into place. The large view panes dimmed, blocking almost all the sunlight, and night lights around the room brightened.

  The director shut down her head-up display, folded her hands on her desk, and gave Tamarja her undivided attention. "How did you find out about the warship?"

  Tamarja told her everything, from seeing the flash of light, to stealing Ianyin Telori's goggles and disruptor key.

  "You have no idea the danger in which you've placed us."

  "The situation is no more dangerous for my knowledge than it was a moment ago. All I'm asking is to be a part of the plan."

  "What plan is that?"

  "Your plan for ind
ependence."

  "Is that what you think this is all about?"

  "I think you plan on making Dawn's Landing an independent colony, one that doesn't answer to Unity or Manitac. The warship is your protection for when Manitac retaliates."

  "And why would I want to do that?"

  "Why wouldn't you? Manitac has become less of a corporate overlord and more of an empire. Unity is helpless to stop them. Entire families are disappearing, innocent people are being turned into ‘pets. Guardians know what they're doing with the children. This has been going on for generations. Manitac has to be dismantled."

  The director actually smiled. "I agree that Manitac in its current form has had dire consequences on the Unity Territories, but dismantling it? Even I don't have that much power."

  "What about the Shadows? They've been fighting Manitac for as long as I can remember."

  "Really?" The director narrowed her eyes at Tamarja. "And just how much do you remember, Captain Chase?"

  Tamarja pulled back on her outrage. "I remember a lot more than Manitac ever wanted me to."

  "So you were mind-wiped at one time." The director reactivated her display. "I didn't see anything in your record about a mind-wipe. And how is it that you remember now?"

  She decided a half-truth was in her best interest. "I'm an experiment. Manitac had me partially wiped. I'm the prototype for the next generation of ‘pet production. More independent. More capable."

  "Interesting." The director flipped through some data, tagging various columns with her stylus. "I've read every report to come out of Research and Development. I've seen nothing indicating that they've changed their methods for producing puppets."

  Tamarja shrugged. "I don't know what to say about that. All I can tell you is that until last night my past was a mystery. Now, I remember everything." A slight exaggeration, but Tamarja didn't elaborate.

  "How did you achieve this breakthrough? Everything I've read is that Manitac's procedure is irreversible."

  "Maybe I'll tell you. After you let me in on your plan."

  "No one knows the plan, Captain Chase. I only employ those who have proved their loyalty to me. They follow my lead without question."

  "I haven't asked any questions."

  "You asked about the Shadows."

  Caught. "I guess I did."

  "That's one question I'm willing to answer." The director shut down her display once more and faced Tamarja. "The Shadows are misguided idealists who seek change through revolution. A pointless endeavor. Revolutions rarely result in anything more than the replacement of one bloody regime with another. Even if, after years of warfare, the Shadows manage to overthrow Manitac, or establish a revolutionary government, or whatever their plan of the moment is, how will they keep their control? There will be counterrevolutionaries. There always are. How will they keep the economy moving? Products delivered to market? Populations fed, educated, healthy? If they can't keep a stable society, they'll find themselves dealing with a situation like they had on Stratos, only on a much larger, far more destructive scale.“ She sighed and fixed Tamarja with a hard look. "You see, Captain Chase, I don't want to destroy Manitac. I want to own it."

  Chapter Forty

  "She was here?" Cyrek didn't bother looking at the mechanic he questioned as he ran his hands along the freighter's body, admiring the new paint job. Gold and green, but without the corporate logo. He'd have liked to have that repainted on there as well, but it would attract far too much attention. More attention than he could afford.

  "Uh, yeah. Not for long, though." The mechanic shut down the image of Tamarja that floated before him. "She had clearance for the port, and you never asked to secure this place. She ID'd the craft as pre-Manitac, seemed real interested. Figured she might be a history buff or hobbyist or something."

  "Or something," Cyrek repeated, his focus still on inspecting the outer shell of the craft. "She didn't react well, though, once she was inside the hangar?"

  "She just said the smell of lubricant made her sick. She did look a little green, but that could have been a reflection off the paint. Ran out of here pretty quick. I didn't have the time to look for her."

  "No reason for you to. She was just curious. I have no problems with curiosity." At least not as far as Chase was concerned. Yet another interesting reaction from poor Chase. First she froze at the sight of a spinner, then she ran away from the ship she once called her own. Could it be possible she was actually remembering?

  He couldn't have asked for a better gift in return for the one he was giving her.

  "When do you need to report back to Ballas?" Cyrek asked the mechanic, who was starting to look nervous.

  "I've got another full day of leave before I have to report for decon. I can have the ship put together, but I can't test her. None of us are licensed for pre-Manitac ships, and we still can't figure out what those custom modifications are to the flight controls. I searched the whole ‘cast ‘net and can't find a record anywhere that resembles what we found. Even the private associations that specialize in older craft couldn't tell me."

  Cyrek pulled his hand back and rubbed his chin, stumped. "No chance of tracing the signal to whatever system it was supposed to control?"

  "No signal involved, not even any old-fashioned wiring we could trace. It wasn't connected or set to broadcast as far as we could tell. If it was set to broadcast, someone erased the signal from the box—an incredibly dangerous thing to do when you're dealing with a spacecraft system, not to mention illegal—or they used it as a decorative music generator."

  "I doubt it was just decoration."

  The mechanic shrugged. "Ya got me, ‘Tac. I did my homework."

  "That's fine. I don't intend to fly her myself. Might not have to fly her at all. See, however, that you keep this hangar locked down from here on out. In fact, keep it locked after you leave. I don't mind the woman nosing around, but I'd rather keep others out of my business."

  The mechanic looked relieved. "Sure thing, ‘Tac."

  "I don't understand. You want to own Manitac?" Tamarja's heart sank. She had misjudged the director and put her own plans in jeopardy. Daeven was right—he shouldn't have trusted her.

  "Own isn't really the right word. I want to control Manitac, bring it back from the bloated edge of overindulgence, and return it to the lean and hungry days of the past."

  "So you didn't meet with Manitac yesterday to try to free the personnel transfers?"

  "I didn't say that," the director snapped as she stood up and stalked away from her desk to one of the gill tanks. "One of the first things I'll do once I gain control is to shut down the puppet project, find a way to free those slaving away on distant colonies, and return their memories to them."

  "I can help with that." Tamarja's heart fluttered again, regaining altitude. Maybe she hadn't been as wrong as she had thought.

  "So you've indicated." The director still didn't look at her, her eyes on the gills floating by. "Tell me how."

  "Tell me your plan first."

  "This isn't an overnight operation. I've been working at this for decades, and it'll be many years still before I can even think of making my move. I first have to make Dawn's Landing a viable, independent operation. I need to find a product that I can exploit that will keep me in Manitac's good graces until I can build up AuRaKaz to the point where I can buy out Manitac. All of it under my banner and my control. They've indulged me until now because of my past successes, but this inspection has changed the course of my plans. Someone doesn't want me to succeed, and I need to know who in my operation betrayed me."

  "I might be able to help you with that too."

  "Oh, really? At what cost?"

  Tamarja took her time standing, and then she walked over next to the director so they both could watch their reflections in the glass. "I want three things in life―to free my friends, to find my father, and to fly. Nothing more, nothing less. I have no ambitions to control anything, to be in charge of anything. I don't want what's
not mine, and I'm willing to work for what I want."

  The director said nothing, just continued to stare at the colorful gills.

  "Look, I understand the risk you're taking in trusting me. You don't know me because what you found in my file contradicts everything I just told you. If you will indulge me with an hour of your time, I'll give you the answer to your question."

  "How you regained your memory?"

  "Okay, two questions. How I got my memory back and how to produce a product that will blow Manitac off the star charts."

  The director just raised an eyebrow in her direction.

  "Figuratively speaking, that is."

  "You offer much, Captain Chase."

  "The rewards are worth it."

  The director headed back to her desk. "When and where?"

  "The portal to the cavern. I'll contact you when I'm ready."

  The director flicked her wrist again. The privacy shield snapped out of existence, and the vents opened, allowing air to flow, and the view panes let in the golden rays of dawn.

  "Don't disappoint me. I don't do business like Manitac, but I do have ways of retaliating against those who cross me."

  Tamarja shivered in the morning rays. She didn't doubt that crossing the director would be a very unpleasant experience. The pure confidence radiated absolute certainty. No wonder the director could create such an ambitious plan and attract a loyal following. However, Tamarja would do what she had to do to protect those she cared about. Hopefully, that wouldn’t mean having to cross one of the most powerful people on the planet.

  Chapter Forty-One

  "This isn't going to work."

  Daeven raised his head above the schematics of Jarvis Station to look at his partner. Daeven had commed in sick for his shift, so he and Joran could spend the day trying to design a viable plan for getting the Shadow fleet through the slipstream. Once they had wrestled the biobed into a belowground storage room, and Joran delivered the morning news and weather report, they still didn't have a clue as to how they could finish their new mission.