Rogue Messiah: Fleetfoot Interstellar Series, Book 2

by P. Joseph Cherubino

  “Uncertain,” Samuel replied.

  “Oh boy,” Drexler said aloud. Samuel folded his arms across his broad chest and nodded. “Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Doctor. Jubilee, we will leave you now. Carry on.”

  Drexler and the Doctor hurried back to the airlock in silence.

  19

  Abhay Nautiyal sat in the common room that grew more common by the day. The Forest Child transport no longer resembled a spacefaring craft. It looked more like a crowded office space. He took the opportunity to share coffee with his wife as groups of bureaucrats, officials, analysts, and consultants moved through the space. The common room became the place where food was served. It was also a place for socializing.

  “I haven’t seen you much lately,” Abhay began with a simple probe.

  “That is by design,” Margaret said. Abhay winced.

  “Margaret, I understand you are still upset with me. But you do know that you are one of the few people in this universe with the power to truly hurt me, right?”

  Margaret set her hazel eyes to his deep brown and read the pain there. She softened, said, “I’m sorry, Abhay. I’m trying.”

  “That’s more than I have a right to ask of you, Margaret,” Abhay replied. He made a show of sipping coffee so he could look away. She knew him well enough to understand he was fighting back tears, and that made him angry.

  “I want to stay married to you,” Margaret blurted.

  Abhay choked on his hot coffee and coughed. Margaret patted him on his broad back as he recovered.

  “When…” he stammered, “when did you decide this?”

  “During that last battle. I watched that all unfold and thought about your promise.”

  Abhay remembered that promise. It was a futile and foolish one made with all his heart. He promised Margaret that he would never allow harm to come to her. He knew it was impossible as he said it, but he meant it anyway.

  Abhay did cry then, silently and fully. He let the tears roll down his cheeks and took Margaret’s hand in both his. “That is all I ever wanted. You just tell me what to do.”

  Margaret gave a frustrated sigh. “It doesn’t work like that, Abhay. Men always think they can just fix everything, since time immemorial. It’s going to take time, that’s all. Just time. Just … be here.”

  “I can do that,” Abhay said. His shoulders rose again, and his eyes brightened.

  Margaret pulled her hand back and punched his chest. “You better,” she said. Abhay made a fist, shook it at her and growled.

  They laughed and shared a quick, salty kiss. She wiped Abhay’s face―her warrior. Part of her was proud she could bring him to such a state, while another part worried for the future of her marriage and the Trade Union itself. The war had already changed them all.

  A forest child crew member ambled into the room, clearing a wide wake by virtue of her broad form.

  “Excuse me,” the Forest Child said awkwardly. She stood before Abhay and paused.

  Abhay looked back up at her and waited politely. When no words came, Abhay asked, “You’re not accustomed to humans, are you?”

  “This is true,” she replied. “Even now, I am trying to identify you. Are you are the one called Abhay.”

  “I am, in point of fact,” Abhay replied with an amused smile. “Around here, I am called ‘Senator Nautiyal.”

  “Yes, Senator Nautiyal. I was told to bring you to the conference room for a private conversation.”

  Margaret rose to accompany Abhay, but the Forest Child motioned her to stay. “If you please, the meeting is private.”

  Abhay hesitated. Margaret said, “I understand. I’ll be in my quarters when you are done, Abhay.”

  When he turned to leave, Margaret grabbed his hand briefly. When he turned in surprise, she gave him a quick smile. Abhay proceeded with a spring in his step. For the first time in a months, a sense of normalcy crept in around the edges of the series of stressful events his life had become. When he stepped into the conference room and saw the image on the bulkhead data display, that sense evaporated like water from the desert floor.

  “Senator Nautiyal,” the image of his former guard and once closest friend stared back at him larger than life. “Thank you for agreeing to this meeting.”

  “I agreed to no meeting. If I had known, we would not be speaking,” Abhay replied.

  “That is unfortunate,” Malik said. “Should I terminate the transmission?”

  For the first time, Abhay noticed that the Persian Ambassador, General Kuwan and Ambassador Dhohal were present in the room. He was also conscious of his rapid heartbeat and restricted breath. Were Malik before him now, Abhay would be at his throat.

  “Absolutely not,” Dhohal said. The emphatic statement gave Abhay pause. Dhohal muted the audio with a firm tap of his finger on the table console. Abhay watched Malik’s lips move, but no sound came forth. He was thrilled at the silence, but had a feeling the bliss would not last.

  “You need to hear what Malik has to say,” Dhohal said.

  Abhay sat at the conference table with clenched jaw. Dhohal resumed two-way audio.

  “…and the ships will be there within days,” Malik said.

  “Colonel Malik, would you repeat that, please?” the Persian Ambassador said.

  “Which part?”

  “All of it,” the Ambassador replied.

  Malik began again, visibly agitated. “I said that the first wave of my response fleet is inbound to Medina 3 and will be in orbit within days.”

  “What response fleet?” Abhay asked.

  “Surely you are aware of the shipyards at Chennai 5? I assumed you saw the reports of my actions there. Have you forgotten the defense plans you administered in your former capacity as Colonel?”

  Abhay did not take the bait. “Certainly,” he said. “I request clarification of your statements.”

  “Clarity can be found in the reports, but I will repeat. The first wave of one-hundred-fifty BJP fighters will arrive at your position shortly.”

  “Is that the only reason you called?” Abhay asked.

  “No,” Malik replied. “Colonel Blevins will be fleet commander and I will be its Admiral.”

  “Colonel Blevins?” Abhay balked. “You do not mean General Blevins?”

  “The Colonel accepted a demotion rather than dismissal.”

  Dhohal turned to Abhay as the color rose to the Senator’s cheeks. “Congratulations on your promotion, Admiral” Abhay said.

  Malik nodded. “We will absorb this group calling itself the Resistance Armada. The Trade Union has issued orders that all Armada ships be turned over to the Trade Union Unified Command.”

  “I am not aware of any Unified Command,” Abhay replied.

  “As you well understand, communications are just now being reestablished. The Unified Command came about in recent weeks, and we are only now able to inform you of this.”

  “So,” Abhay began, “While the Armada was busy fighting, the Trade Union spent its time developing a new bureaucracy. Is that what you are telling me?”

  “Abhay…” Dhohal said. It was too late.

  Abhay sprang to his feet, said, “Good luck to you, Admiral Malik Luthra. I wish you well in enacting that order, considering that the Armada is a fleet of mostly private ships crewed by civilian volunteers.”

  “Does this mean I can count on your support in the Senate?” Malik asked.

  “No,” Abhay replied. “It most certainly does not.”

  “Then I will accept your resignation from the Taskforce when my fleet arrives,” Malik replied with a smug grin on his mustachioed face.

  Abhay played directly into Malik’s hands, but Abhay realized he was past caring the moment he walked into the room. “You will have it when you arrive,” Abhay said. “Until then, we will prosecute this war in conjunction with the civilian volunteers now protecting the fourteen-billion lives of Medina 3.”

  Abhay turned on his heel and strode into the corridor. He paus
ed for a moment and looked around as the ship seemed suddenly unfamiliar. An overwhelming urge to leave the ship took him.

  Out on the tarmac, he stared up at the pale, blue-green sky of Medina 3. As cramped as the Forest Child transport began to seem, Abhay was instantly dwarfed by the massive shipyard structures that towered over both man and machine. Power transmission towers and skyscrapers five thousand feet tall helped him realize his place. He was but one man with a choice. HIs political life was over and his career in the military destroyed by his rival, Malik. With all else stripped away by defeat, Abhay realized he was a simple soldier. He was not a Senator or an officer. He understood that he was born to fight, not to play chess games.

  20

  “OK,” Margaret said, sitting at the foot of the bunk built for a Forest Child. “You quit your career as a high-ranking Senator so you can run off and join a soon-to-be outlaw army. Am I missing anything?”

  The quarters were large by Human standards. They were certainly larger than the cabins she grew up with aboard the Fleetfoot I . Her voice didn’t echo, but didn’t quite fill the room, either.

  Abhay told Margaret about Malik, his rise in the BJP security forces and his plans for the Armada. Malik advanced his career by selling secrets to Abhay’s political rivals, for which Abhay took the fall. The two grew up together, went through military training, fought beside one another, and built lives and careers as friends and colleagues. But all the while, Malik had other plans. Everything, including Abhay’s friendship, was a means to an end. Betraying Abhay meant a caste elevation for Malik’s Luthra family, so that is what Malik did.

  Abhay thought for a moment, then replied, “That sounds fairly accurate.”

  “Look, Abhay,” Margaret said. “At this point, I want nothing more than to get my ass back into space where I belong. I miss my ship, and I miss my brother, and I want to fight with my people to take back the Trades.

  But you ― you were born and bred to be part of the BJP Government. It’s all you’ve been about since I met you. All that work, all the elections and your military service ― I just don’t get why you are walking away now, after one bloody nose.”

  Abhay sat beside her on the end of the bunk feeling small. It wasn’t the outsized berth, or the dimensions of the room, but something else. The feeling often came upon him as a child as after long days of rigorous physical training and equally challenging academic study. Before going to bed, he would sit just as he did in that chamber with Margaret feeling the world expanding around him. The floor somehow felt colder and harder beneath his feet, and his small room became a vast, cold cavern. He did not know what it meant. He only had a vague sense of what it told him.

  “It’s the lies,” Abhay said.

  Margaret shook her head, waiting for more. When no more came, Margaret asked, “What lies, Abhay?”

  “All of them, most of all the lies I told you. My military commission, my place in the Senate, even my place on the Taskforce―none of this is me, except being here with you.”

  “Abhay, no. Don’t make this some kind of romantic gesture. Come back to the ground.”

  Abhay stood, balled his fists and paced. He could not meet her eyes. “Damn, it! I just don’t have the words!”

  Margaret raised her hands and face to the ceiling and pleaded silently to some force beyond. “Let’s work through this, then. You are clearly in a bad place.”

  “No, that’s just the thing! I’m not! I’m only distressed because I can’t explain it to you!”

  “I’ve never seen you like this, Dear. I have to say, you’re looking and sounding kind of crazy.”

  His laughter surprised her. “Then let me ask you this: why do you want to go back to the ship?”

  “I grew up there. My brother, Samuel are Mumlo are there. I feel like all those Astronauts are my people, and it’s where I believe I can do the most good.”

  “So, for you, it’s more of a ‘where’ than a ‘what,’” Abhay said.

  “Yeah, I guess you could say that. Sounds about right,” Margaret said.

  “For me, it’s always been about ‘what’ as in, what am I doing. I did not care about where or how. When my team was together, when I was a soldier, I felt like what I did mattered. When I am with you, what I do matters. As a Senator and a high officer, it seemed to matter far less.”

  “OK, I think I’m starting to get it. Go on.”

  “My mission to find the seed ship mattered. It was important. It meant something for billions of lives. Malik got me kicked out of the military. Fine. I got beat. I could go back there, rebuild my base and take Malik out. I’d love nothing more than to put a knife in his guts, but what then? Another climber will come after me while I run for another election. It means nothing. And here I sit with my work undone.”

  “Well, why the hell didn’t you say that? You wouldn’t be the first man in history driven by something he can’t quite explain. Let’s just say you also want to go where you can do the most good.”

  Abhay scratched his head. His face drew together and formed a point. Margaret stood and wrapped her arms around him. He rested his chin on her head. “You’re just not the most articulate guy in the world, are you,” Margaret said.

  Abhay gave an exaggerated grunt. They both laughed.

  “Let’s get the hell off this planet, then,” Margaret said.

  “Two things,” Abhay said.

  “Oh, no. Here we go again …”

  “First, your brother hates me. Second, Dhohal will not take this well.”

  Margaret untangled herself from her husband, pursed her lips and set her jaw. Abhay was more than familiar with her look that meant business. Margaret grabbed his arm and dragged him from the room. “Let’s do this right now, then,” Margaret said.

  Five minutes later, Abhay stood in front of Dhohal after explaining why he wanted to leave the BJP to join the Resistance Armada. Margaret sat across the conference table watching closely.

  When Abhay told the Ambassador he wanted to meet, Dhohal cleared the room immediately. He knew Abhay well and knew the matter was serious. And now, Dhohal stood perfectly still in the empty conference room as he formulated a response. The pause stretched across several minutes. Abhay filled the silence with his own worry. He was about to say something when Dhohal crossed the room to touch the comm panel control near the doors.

  “Transport captain,” Dhohal said, “Prepare the ship for departure in twenty-four Trade hours.” Turning to Abhay he said, “I hope that is not too long to wait, but I do need some time to conclude business here. Leaving might prove a delicate matter.”

  “I don’t understand,” Abhay stammered. Margaret pulled on his arm, and he looked down on her with a witless expression.

  “Yes you do,” Margaret replied. “You just don’t have enough confidence in your friends.”

  “I’m afraid that is a rather harsh assessment but accurate,” Dhohal replied. “You can quit the BJP Senate, but did you really think I’d let you leave the Taskforce and go out on your own? I will fight to keep you as part of this group. Admiral Luthra cannot force you from this group. We will make this work.”

  The clueless expression turned to a childlike grin. Abhay could not speak. Instead, he pulled out a chair, sat down. He pulled a display scroll toward him and began making plans.

  ***

  Drexler hustled back to the bridge. Time ran out, and events seemed to pile up like debris carried by flood water. Decisions needed making before they got made for him. So far, and as if by some miracle, the Lizards were on the defensive. Drexler still did not trust their posture. The first Armada attack did some damage, but Drexler had a hard time believing that they inflicted as much damage as the Battlecruiser seemed to indicate.

  “I think they are pretending to be wounded,” Drexler said as he studied the display scrolls again. Because the Armada charted the gravity distortions as they were created, they had the ability to compensate for them. Their sensor readings were accurate, and Drexler d
id not like what he saw. “Call me a pessimist, but I can’t believe we hurt them that bad.”

  Mumlo loomed over his left shoulder and read the data with him. “That is a safe assessment, but what choice do we have. In another few hours, the distortions will dissipate, and they will be able to see us clearly. We can either attack or run.”

  “I say we press the advantage and hit them again,” Drexler said. “It’s our only shot.”

  “We can at least slow them down before that other fleet gets here,” Mumlo said. “Maybe we can do enough damage to keep them on the defensive.”

  “Comm!” Drexler said. “Call a meeting with the Captains!”

  To Drexler’s great surprise, the other Captains agreed. The meeting was brief and simple. They made the decision to move out in an hour. That accelerated their plans to staff the Jubilee. Nearly every ship donated a few personnel to the new ship, and before long it had a skeleton crew.

  Drexler checked the time. “Mumlo, take the bridge. I need to talk to Captain Aahloh in medical.”

  Drexler found the little Tonaw Captain alert and upright on the surgical bed with his leg set in a healing brace. He struggled to put on a fresh uniform. Drexler saw that engineering already built him a new flight suit. Drexler took note that it was the same design as his, meaning it had the same capabilities.

  “Captain Aahloh,” Drexler said. “May I have the honor of helping you to your uniform?”

  “Thank you,” Aahloh replied.

  Drexler moved with great care and read the Tonaw’s reactions. He did not seem defensive at the intimate contact as Drexler helped him dress.

  The captain cinched the belt around his round, frog-like belly and Drexler helped him slip the uniform tunic over his head. Drexler noticed the raw, gray sores on the backs of Aahloh’s hands. He wasn’t familiar with Tonaw physiology, but the darker colored green splotches appeared to be bruises, and they spared no part of his body.

  “Your ship now has a skeleton crew,” Drexler said, as he helped this fellow captain slip into his flight suit. It was a one-piece design to accommodate the Tonaw body plan.