by Lincoln Cole
“Okay then. I’ll hash out the other side of the plan. She’ll never know what hit her.”
“No,” Oliver said. “No actual attacks. Scare her, sure. But don’t hurt her. She might be just a normal civilian.”
“She’s armed.”
“Just because she carries a gun does not mean she knows how to use it,” Oliver said. “Maybe in a few days, this will all be over. A couple shots, her weapons pop out, and the treaty is broken. Evelyn’s Grace goes home.”
“What time should I meet you at the spaceport tomorrow?”
“Don’t worry about it. You put the money in; I’ll take care of the rest.”
Jim shrugged, putting his hat back on and sliding a lighter from his pocket. “You know, Oliver, if things go right, then this time next week we could be heroes for sending the Union packing. We’ll have to pick up a couple victory cigars.” He flicked the lighter and held the flame across the table for Oliver.
“Or coffins,” Oliver added, leaning over and puffing on his cigar.
“Yeah,” Jim said, lighting and drawing deeply before leaning back in his chair and releasing a cloud of silver smoke.
2
The hangar was built in an old grain field several centuries earlier. Back when Jaril was still mostly farmland. A monarch built the structure while declaring this his home, and the city of Mys sprouted around it. Now it was the largest and most beautiful city in the entire Kingdom.
But it doesn’t change the fact that the hangar is falling apart.
Oliver leaned against the concrete and rebar wall in bay forty-three. He was carefully avoiding a stripped wire hanging from the ceiling that might or might not shock him if it touched his skin. It was hovering about twelve inches from his left cheek and he would have sworn it chased him whenever he moved.
That wire had fallen loose from a ceiling light during construction and draped down to ground level through due to excess cable and shoddy workmanship. Oliver didn’t even want to guess how long it had been like that.
Once I have my fifty percent of a ship, I’ll have to put up with these damn deteriorating spaceports on a regular basis.
Suddenly a wrench hit the ground a few feet to Oliver’s left. A man shouted down apologies.
Oliver carefully moved away from the wall.
He tried not to picture what he would look like lying dead on the floor, skull bashed in.
Vivian Drowel stood a few meters away, reading over the schematics of the water filtration system. Each unit came in four pieces. If the shoddy hangar conditions bothered her, she didn’t show it.
She was thorough. He had to give her that. Luckily she didn’t seem to know any more about water filtration than he did, and with prices fluctuating throughout the galaxy she would have a hard time proving he was cheating her.
He’d been hoping to leave the hangar a few hours ago, but Vivian insisted on going over each and every unit and make sure they were up to spec. A few of the units were old and she insisted on running water through them and testing it.
Traq was sitting on the ground a few meters away, looking bored out of his mind as only a five-year-old can. Oliver felt bad for the kid, wondering if he’d ever been that bored when he was young.
He doubted Vivian was the kid’s mother—they looked nothing alike—but she was a lot more for Traq than Oliver had while growing up. His grandparents gave him a place to sleep sometimes, but for the most part, he lived in group homes for kids or on the street surrounded by miserable adults and thieving bullies.
“Are you satisfied?” he asked.
“Nearly,” Vivian replied. “Are you in a hurry?”
The question oozed mistrust.
“Of course not, but they close the hangar in a few hours,” he said. And I’m bored, tired, and frustrated. Also, by the way, I’m planning to betray you so that a madman can run you off the planet and break up a tentative treaty.
He decided to keep those thoughts to himself.
And people say I’m not diplomatic. Ha!
Oliver felt in his pocket and found the little good-luck coin he carried. It was a trinket he kept out of sentimentality…mostly. It was also (conveniently) an exact replica of the Admiral Medallion for Heroism. It was given by the Admiralty whenever someone went above and beyond the call of duty and was only rewarded once every few years.
They were, of course, quite easy to replicate.
Whenever he dropped into a local bar it was the perfect conversation starter. A quick story about how he risked his life to save his war buddy Chester in some galactic battle was a great way to make sure he didn’t spend his nights alone. I pulled him out of the burning wreckage, giving him my own oxygen supply until we got to safety. I don’t think I’m a hero, but the Admirals…
He flipped the coin over in his hand and knelt down next to Traq. “Want to see a magic trick?”
The kid looked up. “Sure.”
“See this coin?” Oliver asked, handing it to Traq. “Feel it, it’s totally solid.” Traq turned it over in his hand and then gave it back to Oliver. He held it up again for inspection and then held out his hands, showing the fronts and backs. “Now watch, I’m going to make it disappear.”
Oliver exaggerated the motion of pushing the coin into his fist for a few seconds. He had Traq’s complete attention now, and when he opened his hands to show Traq that the coin was gone the kid’s eyes went wide. Traq looked around on the ground and then up at Oliver, and Oliver couldn’t help but grin.
“Where did it go?”
“I told you, I made it disappear. Now watch, I’m going to make it reappear.” Oliver closed his fists, exaggerated the motion again with his right hand and then opened his hand to show the coin. Then he handed it to Traq. “See? Magic.”
Traq held the coin up to inspection. “How did you do that?”
“A magician never reveals his secrets,” Oliver explained. Traq handed him back the coin and stood up. Traq turned to Vivian.
“How did he do that?” he asked.
Vivian finally looked up from the schematics.
“Probably a fake coin,” she said. Oliver flipped it to her. She caught it deftly and scanned it over. “Then some sort of adhesive.” She tossed it back to him.
“You wound me,” he said, “to even accuse me of tricking this youngster here with anything less than real magic. I’d like to see you do better.”
Vivian sighed and turned back to the manifests.
Oliver held the coin back up in front of Traq. He whispered, conspiratorial, “I use a sticky substance called petroleum jelly to hold the coin to the back of my hand,” he said, showing his hand to Traq. “And I press the coin against the soft part between my thumb and finger so that when I open my hands and show you my palms you can’t see the coin.”
“Oh,” Traq said, looking at his own hands and slightly deflated.
“Unfortunately, magic isn’t real,” Oliver disclosed, aware that Vivian was still watching him overtop the manifests. “And before you ask Vivian, yes. That means I always carry a little container of petroleum jelly in my pocket. Just in case.”
A few moments passed and then Vivian set the schematics down on the table.
“It’s not a lot,” she said. “Only twenty purifiers. In the Republic, we could get twice this many for the same price.”
She’s bluffing, Oliver knew. Her eyes told him everything. If she knew for certain, she’d never sign this deal.
“Never been there,” Oliver lied. “So I wouldn’t know.”
“No,” Vivian said, “I suppose not.”
Oliver was glad she was in a hurry to leave the planet because only a few hours in the right markets would have been enough to call his bluff. “I suppose this is enough if you are willing to stipulate to the rest of my agreement.”
“The delivery has already been organized, and the goods will be on Mali within two weeks. I’ve taken the liberty of plagiarizing a trade contract and making a few modifications for us to sign. I adde
d your stipulations in the bylines.”
“I want your word as well,” Vivian said. Oliver affected to be offended.
“The people who need water, those are my people, even if they live on a different world. You have my word that your purifiers will make it there. And in addition, I also pledge that if I find others willing to donate food, supplies, or water to Mali, then I will deliver them as well in honor of this deal we’ve struck today.”
Provided they pay, of course.
He still had to put up with a few more moments of her eyes boring into him before she relaxed. Oliver briefly wondered what she would have done if she didn’t like his deal.
“I will come back one day to make sure you live up to that promise,” Vivian said, rolling up the schematics. Oliver bowed.
“When you do, you’ll be quite pleased,” he insisted.
“Come back tomorrow, and I’ll have the ship ready for transfer,” said Vivian. Oliver bowed again, only a few inches this time, and then turned toward the exit. He waited until Vivian was safely out of sight:
“Layers upon layers of lies,” he mumbled. “Oliver, I believe you’ll get yourself in trouble one of these days.”
Chapter 23
Sector 4 – Alderson
Jayson Coley, Alyssa Ophidian
1
Jayson heard the train before he saw it.
It started as a rumbling, just enough to shake the ground. He was sitting against the wall on the eastern end of the long shed so he felt it under his legs, waking him from a light slumber. He shook his head, clearing the sluggish exhaustion from his mind, and focused on the dirt beneath him.
It took a few moments to realize the source of the vibration, and when he did he sprang to his feet. Something big was coming down the tracks.
The vibrations rolled in from the west, opposite where they’d been walking during the day.
The train was coming from the city.
“Do you feel that?” he asked.
Tricia was resting near the eastern door of the shed, leaning against the rusty wall next to Richard. She looked haggard and weak in the dim light. She glanced up curiously at Jayson as he spoke.
Jayson rushed across the dirt floor, dodging a pair of low hanging chains and barely daring to breathe. He made his way to the old sliding door along that western wall. He grabbed hold of the rusty handle and yanked; it ground open with a mighty squeal, heavier than expected. He didn’t stop but kept pulling until his muscles ached and the doorway stood open.
Outside the night was thick and cool with a breeze rolling across from the west, chilling his skin. It was also quiet and empty. He stared deep into that darkness, willing a train into existence. The fire Tricia built a few hours earlier was on the opposite end of the building, shining light to the east. They’d been so concerned with traveling to the Academy they’d never even stopped to wonder what was behind them. The fire was just past the eastern door that he couldn’t see very far out this direction.
He could see enough, though, to wonder if he was going crazy: there was nothing out there except flying bugs and a few trees hidden in the gloom.
A minute of deathly silence passed. Jayson felt his stomach clench in anguish. He knelt and pressed his hand to the ground. Nothing. Whether his position was bad or the train wasn’t real, he felt no vibrations through the ground. Please let it be real, he intoned silently. It has to be real. Please tell me I’m not going crazy.
A few seconds that felt like an eternity flowed past, and…
…nothing. The breeze picked up, causing his ripped and stained shirt to flutter, but otherwise, the landscape was unchanged. The tracks bent after only a few hundred meters in front of him, curving into the forest and out of sight. He couldn’t feel any vibrations.
But…
But he could smell smoke!
“What is it?” Tricia asked, coming up alongside him. “What did you hear?”
“There’s a train coming,” Jayson said breathlessly, running back into the shed. “There’s smoke through the trees. A few minutes away. Grab Richard, we need to be ready.”
“A train?” Tricia repeated. “Thank God.”
“Maybe.”
“Maybe?” Tricia asked, confused. “They’ll have food. Water. Supplies. We’re safe.”
“You’re assuming they’re here for us,” Jayson said, kneeling down and lifting Richard up into a sitting position. Richard was ashen faced and exhausted, too tired to even groan from the pain. “But I’m betting not.”
“They couldn’t just go on by,” Tricia said in disbelief. “Richard will die.”
Jayson didn’t reply. He lifted Richard to his feet and Tricia took his other arm. He wobbled but didn’t fall. “What’s up?” Richard muttered, eyes barely focused. “We going somewhere?”
“Yeah,” Jayson said. “Home.”
“You can’t seriously think they will leave us,” Tricia argued.
“The train is coming from the city. I doubt they even know we are here.”
“So what do we do?” Tricia asked.
They stumbled their way to the west exit and into the night. It was quiet still, but now they could hear the train in the distance. In a few moments, it would come into sight. They had about a minute before it was upon them. It wouldn’t be moving very fast, he hoped.
“Here,” he said. They lowered Richard to the ground and leaned him against the outside wall of the building. “Keep out of sight for now so they don’t—”
“Jayson,” Tricia repeated, grabbing his arm before he could turn away. “What are we going to do?”
Jayson blew out a long breath. “Ever hijack a train?”
2
“I think I’m going to kill Maven,” Alyssa mumbled to herself, punching an embroidered pillow lined with velvet and azure. It was expensive and pretty but terrible to lie upon. Which meant useless in her estimation; she hoped to soften the padding to make it more comfortable, sure, but if it doubled as stress relief when she hit it she wouldn’t complain.
She tucked the pillow back behind her head and leaned into it. It was warm and itchy against the back of her neck and entirely too stiff to be comfortable. With a curse, she flung it across the way.
“Yep. Definitely killing her.”
Alyssa stared out the window as the scenery flowed past. It was night, and the train had poor lighting, but she was well satisfied that she wasn’t missing anything in the darkness.
“A tree. A tree. A tree. Oh look, another tree. Damn it,” she growled, adjusting her black miniskirt. It kept riding up every time she shifted in the seat.
She’d decided to wear it in its matching blouse and boots because she looked cute as hell, but it was turning out to be a terrible decision. The material chafed her skin and she’d already decided to burn it once this trip was over. If she’d known, she would be wearing it literally all day she would never have put it on.
But that was a minor problem compared to how the rest of her day had gone. She was miserable on this stupid little planet. Damn Darius and his ill-begotten agendas. Why must he keep agreeing to Maven’s ill-conceived and poorly thought out plans?
“Once Darius sees how useless this place is,” she muttered, “he’ll have no choice but to shut it down.”
It had seemed like a good plan to discredit her sister. Maven had taken the academy as a pet project, wanting to train loyal soldiers with particular skills. Saboteurs, survivalists. Self-contained anarchists, they could drop off on a planet for one purpose: terror.
Maven had staked a lot of her credibility into how well this Academy functioned.
But she wasn’t half as angry at Maven as she was her pilot. She’d ordered the useless bastard to drop her off at the Silvent Academy early in the morning. That was when she first arrived. He’d refused, stating that it would be both illegal and dangerous to attempt such an endeavor. The arrogant man had refused her.
And why? Because the Academy refused to allow any flights to pass through their
airspace, and they had ground mounted cannons to back it up. Her pilot warned her that violating airspace restrictions would give the Academy authority the fire on her vessel and, no, it didn’t matter who she was.
Which meant that the only way she could reach the Academy was to walk or ride the train; a train for which no trips were scheduled in over a week. Alyssa had wasted most of the day finding an engineer.
Suddenly the lights flickered out in the cabin, casting Alyssa into complete darkness. She could feel the train thrumming beneath her, but she couldn’t see anything. “Damn it,” she growled in frustration. Seemingly in response, the lights came back on.
They’d been doing that since the ride started. Every few minutes it lost power. The engineer explained that the train’s electrical connections were faulty. He’d been planning on fixing them before making his next trip…but that wasn’t for several days.
So she was forced to tolerate spotty lighting. It hadn’t bothered her at first, but after a few hours she was getting more than a little annoyed.
The engineer had been in a bar called the Flying Duck drinking with friends when she finally tracked him down (which infuriated her). He was also ugly and short and bald (which also infuriated her) and he even tried to refuse passage to the Academy (which really, really infuriated her).
He explained that she needed a formal invitation from the Academy Master to visit. They were undergoing some sort of trial for new recruits, and there were to be no interruptions.
What would the point be, she argued, of an unscheduled audit if she had to schedule it? She actually considered, in her angry state of mind, just knocking the engineer unconscious and taking the train on her own. She would have if she had any idea how to operate it.
So Alyssa did the next best thing for venting off some steam: she dominated the engineer’s mind. She’d cast out through her implant and taken control of him. Then she forced him to do what she wanted. He’d fought back, of course, which just made her utter control of him all the sweeter.
She’d cooled off since then. Now she was just tired as hell and angry.
There was a beeping on her communicator. She drew it out of her purse and flicked it on, a smile spreading her lips.
