Rebel World (The Eternal Frontier Book 4)

by Anthony J Melchiorri

  “I know how this looks,” Tag said. He motioned to himself, his crew, and the Argo. “We’re from the SRE, but I promise we aren’t going to simply reinforce Lieutenant Cho’s idea of how this colony should be run. I was assigned to be a mediator, not a dictator, and I take my position seriously. I’m supposed to be unbiased and objective, and that’s what I’ll try to do.”

  Burton nodded along with his statements, but her guarded expression gave nothing away. She was, it appeared, a practiced politician. He wasn’t. He was lying to these people, and he wasn’t near qualified to be one. The guilt of offering these people some kind of hope was already gnawing at his conscience. Gods be damned, they had an anthropologist, a medical droid, and an alien engineer on the crew, why couldn’t he have picked up a random diplomat or two?

  “It is very good to hear you say that,” Burton said. “We’ll see if you live up to your promises tomorrow. Good night.”

  Tag was ready to return to the safety of the ship, but he could still see the glimmer of skepticism in these people’s eyes. Their only interactions with the SRE had been negative ones up until now. If the marines stationed on the planet were anything like most of the ones he’d known in service, they likely hadn’t bothered to do much fraternizing with the hostile colonists. A chasm of distrust would remain between the two groups as long as they kept themselves isolated. For his investigation to move forward, Tag would need to start building some bridges.

  “Actually,” Tag said. “We’ve been flying in that tin can for longer than I can remember. It would be nice to kick our boots under an actual bed on land.”

  Burton smiled craftily, seeming to understand the motive behind his gesture. Definitely a practiced politician. “Of course. How could we be so rude? There are a few empty flats in town.”

  “We greatly appreciate it, ma’am.” He gestured to Coren, then Alpha. “Our lead anthropologist is eager to explore Orthod, and staying in town will be more convenient for Alpha if there are any medical calls.”

  Tag could practically hear the quiet groans of the others behind him.

  “Fantastic,” Burton said. “Robert, do you mind showing them to the Coopers’ and Lamberts’ old places?”

  A squat man waddled forward, offering a hand to Tag. “Robert Lindquist, Lieutenant Governor. Pleased to meet you.”

  “You as well,” Tag replied.

  He told the crew to gather their belongings. By the time they had reassembled with bags and Lucky in tow, most of the civilians had already departed. Robert was waiting for them, and he introduced Coren to Greg Watson, a construction manager who also served as an unofficial colony historian. The man happily told Coren about Orthod and quizzed Coren on Mechanic society. Robert also introduced the crew to a married couple, Beth and Samuel Foster, who ran the small medical center. Beth was a general physician, and Samuel a surgeon. Tag expressed his surprise to find someone specializing in only surgery on a backwater planet like Orthod, and Samuel confessed he had to do his job without the aid of regen chambers and robotic surgical suites.

  The walk to Orthod was accompanied by the soft burble of chatter and the gurgle of the sulfurous steam vents, but Tag thought he heard a clicking and screeching in the distance.

  “What’s that noise?” Tag asked.

  “The screamers,” Greg replied.

  “Little insect-like beasts,” Robert explained. “Totally harmless.”

  As they approached the Principality, they passed by fields of barley and corn along with some other fruits and vegetables Tag was unfamiliar with. Lucky’s nose sniffed the air, her eyes widening in curiosity at everything they passed. Cattle slept or stood in another field surrounded by a wire fence. It was like a picture from a history holo come to life, Tag thought.

  The town seemed to be running on a menagerie of solar generators. Wires ran from battery banks to the lights strung up around the buildings. Each gray, cubic construct had been auto-fabricated from a lightweight polymer, Robert explained proudly.

  “These things aren’t pretty, but they can withstand everything from acid rain to earthquakes,” he said. Tag saw the 3-D fabricators were still being used. Their spidery frames seemed to be making a slow loop around the circumference of the town, depositing layer upon layer of new polymers.

  “Making a wall?” Tag guessed.

  “Uh, yeah,” Robert said.

  “What happened to the old one?” Sofia asked.

  “Never had one,” Robert said, not quite meeting her eye.

  Tag glanced at Sofia with a raised brow. People didn’t usually build walls unless they wanted to keep something out. He added that to the mental checklist of things he wanted to talk with Burton about tomorrow.

  “Here’s the Coopers’ old place,” Robert said as they approached the edge of town. He motioned to one of the identical residences. “The one across from it is also open. Nothing fancy, but they’ll get the job done.”

  While most of the other buildings were dark, a few buildings near the center of town were lit up. Tag could hear the gentle whisper of acoustic music drifting from one.

  “I’m guessing that’s the local watering hole,” Tag said.

  “That’d be right.” Robert yawned. “I’ll leave you young people to it.”

  “Wonder if they got the Turbo match on,” Lonestar said with a longing glance.

  Robert tapped something on his wrist terminal. “You all should have access to both houses now. No one ever actually locks their places around here. Well, they didn’t used to lock them. Anyway, have a good night.”

  Tag explored the Coopers’ former residence. There was a living room and a couple of bedrooms. The furnishings were spartan but not that different from those on a typical warship. He threw his bags onto a bed, and Lucky promptly curled up beside the pillows.

  “I don’t know about these people.” Sofia took the bed next to Tag’s, dropping her bag at the foot of it. “I’m pretty sure it was easier for me to get along with the Forinths, and we had a hell of a language barrier.”

  “I’m missing those rainbow-colored octopuses right about now,” Tag said. He checked his wrist terminal. The local time was about one in the morning, but relative to the Argo, it felt like noon. “I don’t think I can sleep right now. Want to go see if we can’t get on the locals’ good side?”

  Sofia grinned. “Nothing says diplomacy better than a few drinks with the natives. Besides, whatever they’ve got on tap has to be tastier than that Mechanic piss on Meck’ara.”

  “One can only hope.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  The strumming of an acoustic guitar was a welcome contrast to the auditory torture of the music on Meck’ara. It was just Tag and Sofia tonight at the cantina that served as Orthod’s principal watering hole. He had been surprised when the marines had turned down his invitation to join them at the bar, but they had insisted on adjusting to the local time zone as quickly as possible to avoid any time shift exhaustion. Coren had agreed to meet Greg for an early meeting to learn more about the Principality, and Alpha had decided to accompany the Fosters to inspect the clinic.

  Tag took a sip of lager. He closed his eyes, savoring the slightly hoppy, grassy flavor. “Not bad. Not great, either.”

  “Best beer I’ve had in years,” Sofia said.

  Tag did the math in his head. “Gods, you haven’t had a beer in years, have you?”

  “That’s the joke. Haven’t had one since before the Forinths,” Sofia said. She pushed the glass away. “And I now remember why. More of a wine drinker, I think.”

  “I’d get you a glass, but the drink menu is somewhat limited.” Tag gestured to the sign on the wall that simply said “Beer.”

  “I’m not that thirsty anyway,” Sofia said. She took another sip and grimaced. “Maybe I’ll learn to like it. At least it’s more palatable than C’reen Dahl.”

  Tag could feel the occasional stares like sun rays in the desert on the back of his neck. Word had certainly gotten around of the Argo’s
arrival. He was on his second beer—Sofia was still nursing her first—when he sensed someone hovering over his shoulder.

  “You’ve got to be Brewer,” a voice said.

  Tag turned to see a woman standing behind him. She offered a friendly enough smile, and without invitation sat at one of the empty seats by Tag.

  “I’m Hannah Baker,” she said. Her blond hair was tied up in a ponytail, and she brushed a loose strand from her face before taking a sip of her beer. “Just got out of the lab. Heard all the commotion when you all arrived. Sounds like they sent out the welcoming party.”

  “That they did,” Sofia said. “Not exactly a friendly bunch, huh?”

  Hannah laughed. “No, they’re kind of fiercely protective.”

  “Kind of?” Tag asked.

  “All right, they are completely fiercely protective of their little place on this world. They’ve been on Orthod long enough for babies to be born and raised here. Everything they built here, from the farms to this bar, has been done pretty much without the help of the SRE.”

  “The way you talk,” Tag said, “it seems like you don’t consider yourself one of the colonists.”

  “You caught me. I’m not one of the originals. I’m a scientist. Came here to study the local flora and fauna before the human settlers mess everything up too much.”

  Tag relaxed, delighted to have met a fellow scientist. “Do you have a fully stocked lab? The Fosters’ clinic sounds quite barebones.”

  “Yup, a great setup,” Hannah said. “All the toys a girl could ask for. Even trained a few of the locals to help me with the experiments.”

  “Damn,” Sofia said. “The SRE never told us there was a full-scale environmental science operation here.”

  “Not surprised,” Hannah said. “I’m not here for the SRE.”

  Tag tried to probe that statement as innocently as possible. “So are you here with a private company?”

  Hannah laughed, her fingers tapping Tag’s wrist playfully. “You’re kidding, right? How many companies would waste money on documenting the biodiversity of a place like this?”

  Tag shrugged. “I’m sure I wouldn’t know.”

  “I’m here on behalf of a nonprofit. Enviro-Cosmos. Their whole shtick is studying native species before we steamroll over them.”

  “Got it,” Tag said. “So you’re creating an encyclopedia of the local wildlife?”

  “A little more than that,” Hannah said. “I’ve also got the unique opportunity to see what happens to the plants and animals here as they’re affected by human colonization.”

  Tag nodded. “You get to see how biocontaminants like anthropogenic viruses and bacteria affect them. Probably get to watch what happens on an epigenetic as well as an ecological level, I imagine.”

  Hannah poked his shoulder. “Sounds like you know a bit more science than your average bumbling SRE diplomat.”

  “Science is a passing interest of mine,” Tag said, trying to cover his gaffe. He’d been so caught up in talking with Hannah that he’d almost given himself away.

  “And speaking of passing interests,” Sofia said, pushing away from the table, “I think I’ll leave you two to it. Wasn’t tired before we came in here, but between the beer and conversation, I think I’m good to go.”

  “So soon?” Hannah asked.

  “Not soon enough,” Sofia said, stretching. “Night.”

  She left the bar, attracting the curious glances of a couple colonists. Tag and Hannah continued talking for a while. He tried not to seem too knowledgeable about biology, but it was impossible to not ask Hannah about her work or what she had discovered here. She seemed to appreciate his interest. That was good, because he appreciated her charm and the curve of those lips when she smiled while she talked. After the crowd dwindled to a few colonists chatting in a corner and a yawning barkeep, Tag found himself deep into his fourth beer when another question popped into his mind.

  “This might be out of left field,” he said, “but Cho and Burton mention something about the Imoogi. Is that a native animal here?”

  “Ah, the Imoogi,” Hannah said. “Much more than an animal. That’s the indigenous race.”

  Tag’s brow furrowed. He hadn’t read anything about any sentient beings on Orthod. Surely the SRE reports would’ve mentioned something about them. Unless, that is, they were in the classified reports Doran hadn’t had time to request and receive. But why would the presence of an indigenous race be classified?

  “I’m not surprised. We’ve been operating in a kind of black hole down here,” Hannah said. “The SRE controls all the space traffic, courier drones included. Nothing gets on or off this planet without their approval, thanks to the planetary defense system they’ve set up. It’s supposedly in the colonists’ best interests.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m not sure why they’ve hidden the existence of the Imoogi, but it is what it is. Three hells, maybe you’d have a better idea, being a cog in the bureaucracy. It’s beyond me.”

  “What can you tell me about them?”

  “They’re kind of the bogeymen on this planet. From what I’ve heard, the colonists made a deal with them when they first landed here. At least, Burton did. They’re a completely nautical race, so I don’t know of a single soul beside Burton who has actually seen them. All the same, she told us they promised to leave us alone if we leave them alone.”

  That sparked yet another question. “Those missing marines. Could that be the Imoogi’s doing?” Tag asked.

  “Maybe,” Hannah said. “But it could also just as easily be one of the colonists. I don’t know. I try to keep my head down and stay out of that business. A few civilians recently went missing, too.”

  “That wouldn’t happen to be the Coopers or the Lamberts, would it?”

  Hannah raised an eyebrow. “What are you, a detective? The Coopers and the Lamberts disappeared two weeks ago. The colonists blame the marines, and the marines blame the colonists, and sometimes they all blame the Imoogi.”

  Tag considered this. “That’s why the wall’s being built.”

  “Yeah,” Hannah said. “Won’t do any good.”

  Tag gulped the rest of his beer. “What do you think is going on?”

  “Honestly, it’s probably the marines and a fringe group of colonists playing politics,” Hannah said. “Then again, as strange as this side of the galaxy is, I wouldn’t put it past some other species to come down and start abducting people from their beds before disappearing back into the stars.”

  She laughed, and Tag forced himself to do the same. He feared how much truth might be behind such a joke. Whole families and trained soldiers didn’t just disappear without a trace.

  “Whatever is going on here, it sounds complicated,” Tag said, forgetting for a second he was the one supposedly assigned to untangle this mess.

  “You’ll have your hands full, that’s for sure,” Hannah said. “And now you can see why I try to stay out of it. I’m a simple person who just wants to do a little science. Nothing wrong with that.”

  “I can see.” In Tag’s mind’s eye, he saw the Argo’s lab, back when it had been his little corner of the ship with only a single assistant to aid his work. There had been no worries about fighting Drone-Mechs and saving humanity from extinction. “I have to admit, I’m a bit jealous.”

  Hannah tapped his arm again. “Don’t be. It’s not nearly as glamorous as it sounds.” She withdrew her hand, but Tag saw a line of green edging from beneath her sleeve.

  “Tattoo?” Tag asked.

  Pulling back her sleeve up to her elbow, Hannah revealed a dragon roping around her arm. Its scales glimmered—it was no doubt one of those jellyfish-gene-infused tattoos capable of changing color. “Yeah,” Hannah said almost dreamily. “It’s a dragon.”

  “I can see that,” Tag said, laughing. “I don’t have any, myself. Why did you get it?”

  “Before I came to Orthod, I had some business on Earth. I took time off to explore some of the eastern parts of Asia. There we
re these beautiful temples everywhere with carvings of dragons and phoenixes, incense burning at the altars of all the gods. I’m not particularly religious, but it was a spiritual experience.”

  “So the temple artwork inspired your tattoo?”

  “A little patience would do you good, Brewer.” Her fingers traced over the dragon. “I asked a woman at one of the temples what the symbols meant. We talked for a couple hours or so about spirituality and history and the difference in mentalities between those raised in Western versus Eastern Earth cultures. One thing really stuck out to me—the dragon.”

  “You’re into big, scaly monsters?”

  “It’s so much more than that. It represents the challenges of the future, all the choices we have to make, all the changes facing us as everything around us fluctuates and evolves. We can either remain rigid in our ways and be forgotten.” She took a swig of beer. “Or we can choose to face the dragon head on. Be like the dragon. Flexible. Adaptable. We have to accept that our fate is in the future and that to get there we must be willing to change. To evolve with the world.”

  “It’s a nice sentiment,” Tag said. “Very fitting for a scientist discovering how native life changes in the presence of alien influences.”

  “You’ve got that right.” Hannah laughed.

  Maybe it was the beer, but Tag liked the melodic sound of her laughter and wanted to hear it again. For a moment, he forgot the imminent war threatening to sweep over humanity like a tidal wave. What he did remember was how long it had been since he’d had any kind of real female companionship outside his rather tame relationships with his crew.

  Gods, it sounded so sterile thinking about it like that.

  Hannah made a gesture of looking at her wrist terminal. “You want to check out the lab sometime?”

  “Certainly,” Tag said. “It sounds interesting.”

  He found himself wishing she would invite him there now.