by Lincoln Cole
The roses were covered in little drips of blood. “My wife would kill me if she saw this.”
Ralph Pearson chuckled. “That she would.”
“We need to uh…” he said, then shook his head. His mind wasn’t working. “We should…”
“Let’s get him moved before people come around. His family shouldn’t see him like this.”
Quinton nodded, thankful Ralph was here. I can never repay this debt, he realized. He grabbed Allen’s left side, fighting down his revulsion, and Ralph grabbed the right. Together they carried his torso and limbs back into the administration building.
A thin trail of blood followed them as they carried his deputy. First past the desks, then the staircase leading to the second floor. They traveled down a hallway to a storage room. Quinton’s back strained from the load, like when they brought in grain from the silos or salt from the mines. This was just like that.
Except no matter how hard he wished, it was still Allen.
Don’t fall apart. Keep it together.
They put the body in the storage room. It was the only thing he could think to do. Later they would have to move it, once he called the coroner. Probably in a few hours.
Quinton hated leaving Allen here like this, but he had to make sure the mess was contained before he could do anything about it.
“Thank you,” Quinton repeated as they grabbed a pair of mops. He started scrubbing the line of blood that led back to the front door. A clear path. He still felt sick to his stomach, but it was as much from worry as it was from revulsion now. He didn’t know what he was going to do, what he was going to say.
Especially to Allen’s family. He was a good man. He didn’t deserve to die like this. He took a deep breath and reminded himself to take things one step at a time.
“Thank God I was here,” Ralph said while they scrubbed. “I didn’t make it home last night with the storm coming on. Just slept in my office.”
Quinton nodded. It took only a few moments to clean up the blood. They worked in silence, but when they were done he noticed Ralph staring at him. He was expectant, leaning against his mop.
“This wasn’t isolated,” Ralph said softly. “You know it wasn’t.”
“Allen always was too rash—”
“No,” Ralph said, shaking his head vehemently. “The man’s dead. He doesn’t need us making a mockery of his life.”
“He tried to kill us.”
“His choices were bad. But the underlying problem is still there.”
Quinton leaned in close, whispering, “We can’t steal her ship. We aren’t thieves.”
“We don’t need her ship,” Ralph replied. “Allen was wrong. But we have problems. Legitimate problems. And we can’t keep sweeping them under the rug!”
“Vivian promised she would get the word out. If we can get more water purifiers, then…”
Ralph was shaking his head. His eyes were cold. “No. Equipment won’t solve anything. At best it will be a bandage. We need to address the problem at the source. They don’t listen.” As he said the last he waved vaguely out the door at the city beyond. His voice was gradually rising in anger as he spoke:
“If we just buckle down and fix our own problems, then we won’t need anyone else’s help. It is not their job to take care of us, Quinton. I might have pulled the trigger, Quinton, but you forced his hand. His death is on your hands. No one will help us unless we can help ourselves.”
“Ralph…” Quinton said, “We can’t stop people from using water.”
“We can regulate it better. And the food.”
“We can’t—”
“We can!” Ralph said, throwing his mop across the room. “Stop hiding behind fear! Allen’s dead because he thought you were weak. Maybe he was right.” Ralph was practically spitting the words. He stared at him, then looked over his shoulder. His eyes narrowed. “We don’t need their pity.”
Quinton glanced over his shoulder and saw Vivian coming back to the building, holding hands with a terrified looking Traq. He was glad they’d had time to move the body out of the way.
By the time he turned back, though, Ralph was gone.
3
Traq hadn’t made it far down the street before Vivian caught him. He was around the corner at a full sprint back toward Quinton’s apartment, terrified. She’d put her hand on his shoulder to stop him. His sudden reversal of direction almost tripped her as he jumped at her. He clung to her waist, crying and sputtering.
Wow, I’ve had the kid for four days and already he’s watched somebody get murdered in front of him. I don’t need a book to tell me how bad I’ve screwed this up. Is there anything else I can ruin today?
She gently patted him on the back for a few minutes, trying to figure out what to say. What could possibly make this situation any better? Had Traq’s mother ever taught him about death? She doubted it.
Vivian hadn’t seen anyone killed until she was twenty-four. She’d seen animals killed for ritual and slaughter. But never people. What kind of effect would seeing a man get his head blown off have on a five-year-old?
It couldn’t be good, but there was nothing she could do about it. Right now she had to get him off the planet before anything else went wrong.
“Let’s go,” she said, grabbing his shoulders and stepping back. He looked up at her, still sobbing, and she felt miserable. She took his hand and started walking back toward the building. At first, he struggled a little, but then he fell silently into step.
She saw Ralph and Quinton talking in the doorway and then Ralph disappeared farther into the shadows. There was still blood in the garden, but the body was gone, for which she was duly thankful. Quinton handed her a stack of data pads.
“I…this is all the data we have on those stations I told you about. It’s not edited. Don’t worry, we have copies.”
She took them gently and slid them into a pocket. She didn’t even care anymore. “You have my thanks.”
“You should go,” Quinton said, but he couldn’t meet her eyes. “It’s not safe here just now.”
“I understand,” she said. They shook hands.
“I can take you back to your ship,” Quinton said, gesturing to one of the off-road vehicles. Vivian helped Traq inside and sat next to him as Quinton put the vehicle into motion.
They traveled in silence out into the deserted wasteland. It couldn’t sustain, she knew. It was a fragile city slowly bleeding to death from multiple wounds. One misstep and they would all die.
She wished she could help. Right now, though, she wasn’t even sure she could help one five-year-old child.
Once at their ship, Quinton said farewell as Vivian lowered the ramp. Traq disappeared from her side to his room and she went to the cockpit, firing up the engines.
She placed a call directly to the Office of Argus Wade. He answered quickly.
“Hello Argus,” she said.
“Vivian,” Argus Wade said, delighted. “How are you?”
“Terrible,” she said.
“Oh?” he asked, arching an eyebrow. “Whatever could be the—”
“Stuff it, Wade,” Vivian said. “I’m not good at this. It was a terrible plan.”
“Kids usually are,” he said. “And the worst part is, you can’t give them back.”
“This one I can,” she said. He shook his head, his smile disappearing.
“No, Vivian. You can’t. You’re committed. Come Hell or high water, you are committed.”
“I’m just making things worse. I screwed up, Wade. I screwed up bad,” she said. Her voice sounded whinier than she would have liked.
“Oh, it couldn’t have been—”
“He watched a man die.”
A pause. “He what?”
“You heard me.”
“Wow. I don’t know what to say. Did you have to kill him?”
“I didn’t kill anyone,” Vivian said, offended. “I wouldn’t do anything like that unless absolutely necessary.”
“Well
there you go,” Wade said. “Just help him get past this and turn it into a lesson.”
“What lesson, Wade, should a five-year-old learn that involves death?” she asked, and then sobbed. “Wade, I can’t do this. I’m just going to drop him off somewhere safe and leave.”
“If you do that you know what will happen,” Wade said, his voice soft.
“I can’t,” she said, brushing a tear off her cheek.
“You can. Just be there for him and help him. You are a terrific person.”
She sighed. “Okay, Wade. I’ll try. But I’m telling you, I’m just going to make things worse. I’ve probably ruined him already.”
She clicked a few controls, trying to guide her ship off the planet into space. It didn’t move. Instead, a warning light flashed on and she scrunched her nose up in confusion.
Crap, are we stuck in the mud? Did something break?
“Wade, I’ll contact you later. I have a problem.”
“All right, Vivian. Just remember two things: you can do this, just be there for him.”
“Uh huh, and what’s the other thing?”
“I now have video footage of you crying,” Wade said and then the screen went blank. Vivian cursed and stood up, wiping tears from her eyes. Despite Argus Wade’s encouragement, she knew she was no good for the kid.
She could drop him off at an orphanage. Make them promise to take good care of him. She would just ruin everything for both of them if she took him in. He doesn’t deserve to be stuck with someone as terrible as me, she thought. I never was good with children.
The warning was still blinking, and it showed the ramp was still lowered. The outside controls were deactivated, so the command had come from inside. She picked up her pistol and moved slowly through the ship, wondering if she had an intruder. Another person wants to take my ship?
She made it to the ship’s ramp and saw Traq near the exit hatch, facing away from her and with something heavy clutched to his chest. She scrunched her nose in confusion, lowering her gun.
“Traq?”
He spun, almost dropping his armload. She saw that it was a large bucket filled to the brim with water from the ships sink. He saw her eyes go wide and looked down at the bucket, almost apologetically.
“They need water,” he said. Vivian stood in the hall, staring at Traq. “So I was going to bring them some.”
Suddenly it was hard for Vivian to breathe.
I was wrong, Vivian realized, stepping forward and gently taking the container from him. I don’t deserve someone as good as him.
Interlude
Sector 4 – Tellus
Captain Lyle Queston
1
“What is the meaning of this?” Captain Queston asked, settling back into his chair and glaring at the monitor. On the other end was Captain Emilio Finch, traitor, and turncoat to the Republic. “You would dare stop my ships?”
“You’ve entered Union territory,” Emilio said patiently. He was a big man, large lips, and freckles. “We don’t want to attack you.”
“Then move your ships!” Captain Queston growled angrily. “And there won’t be a problem.”
“This isn’t Republic space.”
“I know that,” Queston muttered. He was in his own lavish personal chambers taking this call—he didn’t want his men to know what was going on and perhaps ruin his plans—but it wasn’t going as expected. He’d expected to show up to general fanfare and act as appropriate to resolve the situation.
Instead, he’d been greeted by a fleet of thirty ships armed and ready for a fight. He had four warships at his command (all warships, unlike some of the enemy vessels, which were merchant vessels or private ships) and was fairly certain he could survive an engagement. At least long enough to flee.
But he didn’t want to flee. That would defeat his entire purpose in coming here, and he would not return without accomplishing his objective. This would make him a hero and seal his position for life. They might even consider giving him a promotion to war fleet command.
“I’m here to speak with Darius.”
“On behalf of the First Citizen?” Captain Finch asked.
“On behalf of myself,” Captain Queston said with a sneer. I have brought my ships and intend to swear myself to his cause.”
It was a lie, of course, but one well told. Captain Queston prided himself on being a fantastic liar, and he wasn’t concerned with someone as lowly as Captain Finch calling his bluff.
So he surely wasn’t expecting the other man’s response to be, “Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why would you swear yourself to our cause?”
So it’s our cause now?
“I want to help create a better galaxy and be part of the rearranging of our political structures. The Republic has trod on the weak for too long, and it is time for things to change,” he said. The words came out with confidence and clarity, masking the contempt just beneath the surface.
Captain Finch nodded. “You would be a tremendous asset,” he said.
“Of course, I will be—”
“But that does not change anything in the short term. I cannot allow you to pass thus armed.”
Captain Queston narrowed his eyes. “You are saying I must turn around?”
“We can escort your fleet closer to the planet and allow you to take a shuttle to speak with Darius, but there are conditions.”
“What conditions?”
“Lower your shields, remove power from all of your weapons, and allow my men to come on board until things are resolved.”
“Never!” Lyle growled.
“Then I suppose you must turn around.”
“You’re asking me to put my fleet at your mercy.”
“If your intentions are honorable, then you have nothing to fear.”
“Without a doubt, my intentions are honorable!”
“Then as soon as you have sworn allegiance I will withdraw my troops and allow you free reign in our territory.”
“This is how you greet a senior Captain of the fleet?” Lyle asked bitterly.
“That is no longer my fleet,” Captain Finch reminded him, his voice hard. “And it is my duty to protect this planet. If Darius accepts your oath of fealty, then I will be the first to congratulate you with a cold beer and pat on the back. But until then, you have heard my terms.”
I could blast a hole through your pathetic fleet. I could destroy all of your ships and drop bombs onto Tellus and wipe Darius out of existence.
Except, he was fairly certain he couldn’t.
Turning over his defenses was a terrible plan. If Captain Finch decided to turn against his ships, there was nothing he could do to stop him.
But it was the only way he was going to get any closer to the planet. All it would take was one conversation with Darius to prove his loyalty and then he would be free to move about and do as he pleased.
Like, execute Darius Gray.
“I accept your conditions,” Captain Queston said, waving his hand in acknowledgment. “I will power down all but the core functionality of my ships and allow you to escort me to the planet. And when I have spoken to Darius you will see that my intentions are honorable and that all of this is an unnecessary mistake.”
Captain finch nodded slightly. “We shall see.”
2
Captain Lyle Queston strode through the entry hall with purposeful steps, conscious of the loud click-clack his hard soled shoes made against the marble floor. His three Keepers, on the other hand, passed with barely a whisper, wearing soft slippers and plain silver robes. They were gifts from his Ministerial Envoy, Maxwell Foor.
When they were first brought on board, five years ago, they terrified him. It was one thing to hear about the Ministry’s punishment for those who deviated from the faith; it was quite another to see the effects first hand: three young women, all lobotomized as children, left to serve whatever purpose their addled minds could handle.
But, as time progressed, the C
aptain had become gradually more and more fascinated by them. They had a simple nature, lacking the petty animosity of their betters. Give them treats and they were happy, leave them alone and they were content. Maxwell enjoyed sending the three to wander the halls of Lyle’s warship, a subtle warning of what could happen to people if the True Faith found them lacking.
Consequently, whenever he gave a sermon, the great Ministerial hall was packed.
Captain Lyle brushed a strand of hair from his forehead and straightened his coat. He was a handsome man with thinning hair. A well-maintained beard graced his high cheekbones, giving him an aristocratic look. He worked hard to maintain it. It kept the men serving under him loyal and made women blush.
He knew he was attractive and spent time cultivating his appeal.
Pillars of white granite flanked the central walkway every five meters. Outside the pillars, the floor was a shade of deep blue. Inside they were a dark shade of red.
Seventy meters from the door to the central chamber. The ceiling climbed two flights above, making the room feel spacious. Opaque glass sky-domes went even higher, spread every fifteen meters along the trek, spilling dull sunlight onto the floor.
It created an interesting effect. Lyle walked from shadow to light and back into shadow as he clicked his way down the hall. The walls were swirling blue, gray, and black marble, giving the entire hall an ostentatious and gloomy air.
He didn’t have to make the walk so goddamned long, Lyle decided. What sort of pretentious bastard makes people walk seventy meters across an empty hall just to reach his throne?
And it was decidedly a throne, sitting atop a pyramid of steps in the central chamber. The throne was cut from more of the swirling marble, making it blend into the wall behind it. It was backlit by hidden globes to help it stand out.
The granite pillars ended at the edge of the circular chamber, and the throne rested in its center.
All that walking, and the room ends with a child sitting in the central seat?
Darius Gray was a small man, short by common standards and slim of build. He wore a silver goatee on his chin that matched his leather outfit. He couldn’t have been over twenty years old.
