Union of Souls (Gigaparsec Book 3)

by Scott Rhine

  During this leg of the trip, Reuben practiced control over his talent. He would allow Fiona to distract and touch him until he couldn’t hold back any longer. Then he would spend his IQ boost on Blythe. As an added bonus, he could spend an equal amount of time touching her. Although, by now, he could do the transfer with a single fingertip, and full skin contact wasn’t necessary. Building his self-control was deemed critical for the safety of Goat kind. Who was he to argue? The favorite part of his day was when Blythe whispered permission in his ear to release his talent and the look of bliss on her face.

  Chapter 23 – Memorials

  Kesh oversaw the offloading of the cargo at New Hawaii Station. The steel was valuable enough that Reuben stowed it on the yacht for personal delivery. On the morning of their trip, he had to explain to Roz why luggage space for their trip to the spaceport was limited. “We avoid the hefty import tax this way.”

  “They need steel. Why would they tax it?” she asked from the cockpit. Roz had been hunting for the source of a bad smell for several minutes with no luck.

  Max tucked a picnic basket into a closet designed for spacesuits. “Most of the surface population is poor, so they don’t have a personal income tax. Import tariffs push the costs to big industries and tourists. Of course, food can be twice the normal price. Could it be food, babe? Goats like to stash that.”

  “The aroma is more like dead mouse, cooked on a dorm hot plate … with curry.”

  Reuben played along. “Passing through the subbasement killed every battery on the shuttle. It’s reasonable to assume that things in the refrigerator spoiled a couple weeks ago.” They had to buy replacements for a few components, as well as spares for several more to keep in the shielded navigation chamber.

  Max asked, “Where’s the harem?”

  “Don’t call them that.” Reuben cocked a thumb at his camera drone. “At least one of them is going to watch me edit this video. If it’s Daisy, she’ll pop you one. I told them about how expensive this planet can be, and they went to withdraw some spending money from their accounts.”

  “Did you decide what to do with your money yet?” Max asked.

  “Before this year, I would have paid down our company’s debt with the Saurians, but that’s pointless. The Bankers wouldn’t relay the credits. Even if they did, the Blue Claws wouldn’t change tactics. Our best bet is to reach the Magi rulers at the Convocation and have them assume the debt on behalf of their species.”

  Max tossed him a tube of sunblock. “How about a charity?”

  Reuben rubbed in the sunscreen because he did have his mentors’ melanin. He felt foolish for forgetting basic field preparation. “There are so many worthy causes. First I thought of endowing a scholarship for Goats at the university, but they already attend for free. Too few are taking advantage of that offer. My next instinct would be the Bat Children’s Relief charity Roz established, but I don’t know if it’s registered in Human space.”

  “The folks in Laurelin took care of that for us when they drew up the legal documents for the ecological consultation.”

  “I also don’t want to seem like I’m neglecting my own people.” Reuben checked his field kit for essential items like lock picks and untraceable cash. “Why did this leg of the journey have to make a profit? We don’t even need my credits for fuel.”

  “It helps that we’re not sending most of our credits to the Saurian mob anymore,” Max explained. What point was there in sending money and a current location to someone who wanted to kill you? “You can make an interest payment on the Goat loan.”

  The one my people won’t have to pay off? “No, that might look like I bought the office of the Black Ram.”

  Roz clipped into the pilot’s seat and began preflight checks. “You’ll think of something before we leave.”

  “It’s just that I was raised with nothing. I scratched and fought until I’m the wealthiest Goat I know. After today, I’m back to nothing again.”

  “It’s not nothing,” Roz said. “It’s your legacy. Make it a statement that history will remember.”

  “No pressure.”

  ****

  The New Hawaii spaceport was smaller than most, but Goats still ran the key posts around the runway like luggage handlers. One industrious young ram attached the mobile stairs to the yacht’s airlock before the engines had shut down. Reuben emerged into the tropical sun, sporting a pair of designer sunglasses from the Black Ram’s collection. He tried to tip the eager worker to carry their gear.

  The kid glanced at Reuben’s finery and the neural staff he had brought along in case his knee gave out from all the walking. “Sir, I don’t want to be involved with any drug dealers.” The implication being that legitimate Goats never got rich or carried weapons.

  Blythe blistered the worker’s hide for several minutes in Mnamnabonian. Reuben and Max carried the bags off to avoid getting caught in the verbal blast radius. They avoided the terminal building, preferring the discreet, wooden exit gate used by contractors. Max volunteered to remain at the gate to guard their belongings while Reuben negotiated with the taxi drivers for the largest vehicle at the best rate. Troy, the Goat he chose, would play tour guide at no extra charge. Since he had been named after the ancient Greek city from the Ulysses adventure series, Reuben took it as an omen.

  The van backed up to the gate to meet the ladies. The driver removed his hat and helped each woman up the step into the vehicle. He offered them all samples of a local delicacy made by his mother, coconut banana bread. “This is the big island of Mauna Keanu, with the capital city. It means mountain of the cool breeze.”

  “The city is so tiny,” Daisy said, gawking. Clearly, she had never been off Laurelin before. “The buildings disappear into the jungle to the west. Everything is so green and lush.”

  “The whole planet has a population under thirty thousand, half of which is still on the military bases. The old city is pretty desolate.”

  Roz noted, “Most of the buildings are wood like on Eden. Does that mean electricity is scarce?”

  “We prefer wood rather than cement because stone holds in the heat and too much concrete can affect the favorable wind currents. We have top-notch tech, ma’am. Our geothermal power comes from the volcano, and the distribution grid is built into the roads.”

  Last into the vehicle, Reuben stuffed his own mouth full of the sweet bread before reading the driver of the minibus the address of the community center. “You know where that is?”

  “Everybody around here knows where that is, bro. I’ll take all six of you.”

  In the front seat, Daisy shook her head. “I’m on my own, heading to the beach.”

  “I’ll take you for free, pretty lady, while I wait for them. It takes about two hours to see the whole community center.”

  Blythe and Fiona argued over who would sit beside Reuben. He dodged the question by making the van trip an interview of Max for his future fans. “This is Max, my best friend and mentor. A couple years ago, I handled payroll for special forces. For a year of the worst Phib combat duty you can imagine, interspersed with forty years of stasis pay, he donated every credit to the community center we’re about to see.”

  “I got paid for stasis time?”

  “About a tenth the normal pay rate. You traveled in the company of Saurians, and you all had the same contract. The Turtles also match all charitable contributions for active-duty personnel. We’re looking at somewhere in the vicinity of a million credits donated for a medical specialist of your caliber.”

  Max gazed out the window. Orbital bombings from both sides had scarred the countryside and leveled whole blocks. The urban decay still hadn’t been removed entirely. “I had no idea.”

  From the seat ahead of them, Roz said, “He’s dodging the question. Why?”

  Max winced. After a long delay, he replied, “The holo Gina Millhouse starred in meant a lot to all the military men who served on New Hawaii during the fall, as well as those who spent the next decade retak
ing the planet.”

  Rather than dwell on the nude scenes or the unrealistic combat sequences, Reuben stated facts. “The holo was filmed here on location. She was supposed to play a bit part, but the director expanded her role to thirteen minutes. The holo made her a superstar. On the press junket to Anodyne, she met and married millionaire playboy Anatole Graham.”

  “He never deserved her,” Max said. “Certainly never appreciated her.”

  “You loved her,” Roz guessed.

  “I never met her. I love what she represented—the innocent spirit of this world, trampled by an invasion but not broken.” The only cement visible was the gray train station. All the other buildings were small and colorful. The tallest structures had historical markers proclaiming them to be Phib Officer Quarters.

  “So why didn’t you introduce yourself to Gina?” Roz asked. “You lived in the same city, a few blocks away. Did you watch her from afar?”

  Reuben interrupted. “Anatole’s uncle threatened to disinherit him because Gina wasn’t suitable wife material. So Gina’s husband poisoned her.”

  Blythe gasped. “That’s hideous.” Murders in Union society were extremely rare. The guilty underwent years of reformatting and weren’t permitted to reproduce.

  “He would’ve gotten away with it, but a young intern fresh from the war recognized the signs of a rare poison,” Reuben narrated for the camera.

  Max admitted, “I gave her family the money for lawyers so Anatole wouldn’t get away with the crime. No one should be able to profit from such a despicable act.”

  “Oh despite the prenup, Gina’s family cleaned him out.”

  “I just wanted to leave behind a place where girls like her could be safe,” Max told the floor. “Maybe a volleyball court. A little, air-conditioned stage for acting classes. I wanted someone else like her to grow out of this squalor.”

  The driver, Troy, chimed in, “The family put all of the money into her foundation. The studio showed up for the ribbon cutting and kicked in some of the movie profits.”

  “Must be a really nice volleyball court.”

  “No sports, bro,” said Troy. “They used the money to build the auditorium in the educational center.”

  Roz said, “That still doesn’t explain why you donated your profits to this place clear up until our engagement party.”

  “I told Anatole how to kill her,” Max muttered.

  The driver pulled to the curb. “Say what?”

  Reuben tried to cover. “Did the information leak out as part of the war stories you told other students?”

  “No. Anatole told me it was a drug for his uncle’s assisted suicide.”

  “That’s legal in Anodyne,” Reuben said for the camera.

  “A responsible doctor would have administered it for him. My tour of duty in special forces was my punishment.”

  “Self-inflicted,” Reuben said.

  “I couldn’t be allowed to profit from the crime.”

  Roz reached out to take his hand. “You’ve more than paid for that mistake. The Max Culp I fell in love with is not a killer.”

  Troy’s bushy, Goat brows shot up. “You’re that guy?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “From the Beloved Sanderjee Memorial.”

  This part of his past, Roz knew about. “Max is a very close friend of a Turtle named Sanderjee. He saved her life as an egg.”

  The driver glanced in his rearview mirror. “Yeah. He does resemble the statue.”

  “Pardon?” Roz asked.

  Reuben entered the information into his wrist computer’s search engine. “Holy crap, boss! They built a ten-meter tribute to the rescue on the beach beside the Turtle Embassy. You can see it from the deck of the Gilgamesh.” The sunken warship off the coast had been stripped of drives and reactors, but the broken hulk remained as a tribute to the fallen.

  “You haven’t been there yet?” asked the driver. “I’ll take you after this memorial.”

  “I’d like to put flowers on the Turtle clutch’s grave,” Max said.

  Daisy volunteered to use her contacts to arrange the tour. “Anyone can snap photos from the boardwalk, but getting onto the section of beach where the deaths happened takes special clearance.”

  Roz shook her head. “Sweetie, you wanted to enjoy yourself on the beach.”

  “One of my partners needs to see the positive results of his heroism,” Daisy said. “I can sunbathe anytime.”

  “Could I pose for a picture with you?” asked the driver.

  “When we arrive,” Max agreed. “Let’s drive to the community center.”

  The driver gestured to the glass building at the head of the long line of taxis. “We’ve been driving past it for four blocks now. The foundation preserved the labor camp just the way it was during the war.”

  The sign on the glass doors of the elegant structure read, “The Gina Millhouse New Hawaiian Holocaust Education Center.”

  “They removed Anatole’s last name from the sign,” Daisy noted. “I like that. How much do we owe you?”

  The driver cleared the fare. “Nothing, ma’am. Your money’s no good here.” He was clearly a little smitten with the woman from Laurelin. After escorting them to the atrium, Troy gossiped with the other cabbies gathered there.

  Chapter 24 – History and Hate

  The partnership paid for a guided tour to get the most of the historic site in two short hours. As they stood in the leveled, gray courtyard, a yellowing, frog-headed Phib introduced himself. “I am Girnath’kopree. I have been absolved by the war crimes tribunal, but I serve as a goodwill ambassador for my people. I teach the new generation what happened so no one will repeat our mistakes.” The way he hunched over in his suit made him look like an old man. Only the huge ear membranes and the needle-like teeth dispelled the illusion.

  Max bowed and produced a gravelly, choking sound. Girnath bowed in response. “We make each other stronger.”

  Shocked and angry, Reuben asked, “Are there any Human guides?”

  “None as knowledgeable as me. I am the former stationmaster for the train transport system when this world belonged to the Phib people. I escorted thousands of Humans to this camp personally, including a six-year-old Gina Millhouse.”

  “But no Goats.”

  “No.”

  “Will you tell my friends why?”

  Girnath swallowed. “Humans who resisted occupation were considered worth saving. Their strength would improve the species. Goats surrendered, hoping for mercy and food. This cowardice was not considered a trait worth propagating. The Culling movement did the same for all races it encountered. Those found worthy were marked with a claw scar for each time they challenged our authority. Gina had four on her back by her sixteenth birthday. They were visible in the film.”

  Roz turned to Max. “Just like Echo had from the Saurians hunting her. That was the connection, why that link persisted between the two images in your head. If that’s the root, we can disentangle them in your memory.”

  “Maybe.”

  “You wanted to save both women more than you wanted to live.”

  “Yes.”

  Roz leaned against her husband. “I love you.”

  As Girnath led them to a bunkhouse, he began his lecture about delousing and the increasing overcrowding of this labor camp during the occupation. “The conditions in the mangrove swamps were extreme. We used Humans to fortify our anti-aircraft positions, including the one on the volcano overlooking the spaceport. They would haul rock and then fill sandbags to protect our guns from the liberators. Once they returned to this camp, we would divide the men from the women, force them to bathe, and then allow them to eat. No artificial lighting was permitted after dark.”

  “What if it was raining?” asked Blythe.

  “Human workers do not melt in the rain.”

  Fiona asked, “How about holidays?”

  “Phibs do not take special holy days to rest. This would be a sign of weakness. One day a week, if
the project was on schedule, workers were rewarded with a half-day.”

  Other tourists clustered around their tour, morbidly fascinated by the details.

  Inside the bamboo bunkhouse, Girnath gestured to the wooden bunks that stretched the length of the room, perhaps twenty meters. “As you can see, three layers high and people three deep. This is not ideal for hygiene. If one worker contracted fever, then many more were soon infected.”

  Max shook his head. “Gina survived all this, only to be killed by someone who was supposed to protect her.”

  “This doesn’t seem that much different than the migrant-worker camps in Napa,” Roz muttered, unimpressed.

  This belittling created a stir in the building crowd, so Max said, “What my wife means is that the Bat children in Niisham prison suffer much worse indignities, and nobody intervenes. She heads a charity dedicated to their relief.” He handed out web-active cards to the onlookers.

  “Did the scar over your eye come from a Phib claw?” asked the guide.

  “No. From ignorance, which has been cured.” Max quoted a Saurian adage. “That which does not kill us makes us better mates.”

  The guide smiled wider than ever. “Heed this man.”

  As the tour progressed, Reuben grew angrier at the well-spoken Phib. “So, did you eat the ones who died?”

  The Phib shuddered. “I ate no one. The Cullers consumed only the young, as permitted us in the treaties.”

  “Your own young!”

  “Displays of racial hatred are banned from this place, sir. If you cannot be civil, I must ask you to leave. I am not a punching frog.”

  Intrigued by the term, Max asked, “A what?”

  “Immediately after the war, many Phib civilians and others found innocent of crimes were stranded here, awaiting transport back to our colonies. Before they allowed us to become water construction or ecology specialists, there were few jobs where our people could earn enough to feed our families. We often had to beg from the very Humans we had imprisoned. One special type of beggar was a punching frog. Men filled with hate would pay ten credits to strike a Phib. Such an action bolstered their pride and humiliated the victim. My brother made six thousand credits in a single day.”