Tree of Liberty

by Wayne Basta

  Now, the shoe was on the other foot, and she found herself addressing Congress. She had once considered herself a good public speaker. During her school years, she had always done well. She held this opinion of herself no more.

  “Members of Congress, we need a new naval commander named until such time as General Ocaitchi can be rescued from Alliance detention or Commander Brieni cleared of charges. Our forces are scattered and without leadership. We cannot hope to make an effective counter-attack against the Alliance. I’m prepared to assume command at this time.”

  The statement was obvious and not very compelling, she thought immediately. Before she could expand on her point, Wilchu Num, one of the delegates from Cardine, said, “So you’ve abandoned all hope of finding General Numba?”

  Caught off guard by the unexpected question, Saracasi said, “Not all hope, no. But we do have confirmed reports of the destruction of Rogue Spirit, apparently with all hands.”

  “With the loss of General Numba and General Ocaitchi, command should fall to General Dustlighter or General Kil’dare,” Lei-mey, from Sulas, said.

  “Neither of which we’ve had any contact with since the failed invasion,” Saracasi replied. “The Alliance has Sulas under heavy blockade. Unless I can take full control of our remaining ships, we don’t stand a chance of breaking the blockade.”

  She didn’t add that they wouldn’t stand a chance of breaking the blockade even then. And even if Solyss returned from Trepon with Gallant intact and the Black Market on their side, they still wouldn’t really have much of a chance.

  “And what of Commander Brieni?” Wilchu asked. “Are you sure of his guilt?”

  Saracasi shook her head. “No. We only have our final report from General Dustlighter expressing his belief that Commander Brieni was a traitor. But he provided no evidence before we lost contact.”

  “Convenient for you,” Inecki Ago’saw from Mirthod said.

  The accusatory tone coming from the Liw’kel hit Saracasi hard, firing up her emotions. The rational part of her brain knew that the statement was intended to throw her off and that it was only effective because of the guilt she felt for jailing Davidus. But that part of her lost control of her mouth. “Convenient for me? We need someone with Davidus’s experience right now. I had to choose between locking up a potentially innocent man that I’ve known almost my entire life or letting a potential traitor run our navy. That was not convenient. This body is supposed to be investigating that but has done nothing for the last two months,” Saracasi said, her tone angry and slightly childish.

  “With all of our generals dead, captured, or cut off, we should be selecting a new permanent military commander, not just a naval leader,” Inecki Ago’saw said, ignoring Saracasi’s statement. “Clearly, Major Ocaitchi is not up to the job.”

  “To command what?” Zhet from Enro demanded. “My planet has been invaded as well, and we don’t have any troops to send to aid. We sent troops to join the Union with the understanding that this army and navy would be there to protect our world. But now we’re on our own. We should abandon this farce of a congress and see to our own planets!”

  The whole ordeal was suddenly spinning out of control. Somehow, the discussion had veered into the territory of disbanding the entire Union. What had she done to screw things up so badly? Damn Lahkaba for not being here, she thought.

  Fortunately, she had at least one ally in Congress. Faide Darkthorne, still acting as chairman of the congress, stood up. “Ladies, gentlemen, please. We’re here to discuss Major Ocaitchi’s request for temporary command of all naval forces until such time as General Ocaitchi or General Dustlighter can return. Now, Major, what exactly do you propose to do if placed in command?”

  Saracasi took a breath, saying a mental “thank you” to Faide. He had finally asked a substantive question about tactics and the war, instead of throwing accusations and engaging in political infighting.

  Steadying herself, she tried to keep her tone calm, reasoned, and professional. “Our forces are currently limited, so a direct assault against Sulas or Ailleroc is out of the question. But we do still have army forces here on Irod, along with home-based units on every world, plus almost a company of marine trainees still on Kol.

  “Using our remaining carrier, our gunships, and the cutters that are currently orbiting Irod and Cardine, we should be able to retake Dantyne, Mirthod, and possibly Enro.”

  Zhet, who moments before had been advocating dissolving Congress, suddenly looked contemplative. The idea of a naval force coming to Enro’s aid clearly held some interest for him. Without Owrik on the Dantyne team, she wasn’t sure how they would respond, but she doubted that the prospect of aid would go remiss.

  She had chosen those planets not for their delegates’ support, however. All had been reoccupied by the Alliance since the Battle of Sulas. Mirthod’s and Dantyne’s naval forces in orbit were relatively light. Each planet also had valuable resources.

  “You mean to strip the defenses of Irod and Cardine away?” Wilchu said, outraged.

  “Irod is safe as long as the Alliance doesn’t know where it is. And Cardine is protected more by the ground batteries than by those ships. The Alliance will come despite them, but it won’t be until Sulas and Ailleroc are completely pacified. For now, those cutters will do more good with the naval forces than as deterrents,” Saracasi answered.

  She held back from mentioning that the cutters weren’t much in the way of warships and would be useless against the Alliance navy. That wouldn’t be a good point to bring up while she was attempting to make the argument that she needed those very ships to fight the Alliance.

  “Clearly Major Ocaitchi’s inexperience and desire to go on the offensive is blinding her. Cardine will not hand over our only defense ships to this child,” Wilchu said derisively.

  The insult was clear, though for some reason, Saracasi found herself not bothered by it. Compared to everyone in this room, she was almost a child. They had a least a decade on her, some as many as five. But she also knew it was an irrelevant argument.

  “This child fought off an entire Alliance task force and saved Kol from reoccupation,” Agamon Toulerak from Kol said, rising to her defense.

  “Then what does she need our ships for?” Wilchu countered. “Let her use this super ship of hers.”

  “The Audacious is currently unavailable,” Saracasi answered. Revealing the truth about the ship’s hyperdrive trouble would probably be more effective as an argument, but she couldn’t risk leaking that information, even here.

  “What do you mean, ‘unavailable’?” Inecki asked.

  “Meaning she’s not available,” Saracasi retorted, her tone far too sarcastic for her own good.

  “I think it’s clear that Major Ocaitchi has no support from her fellow officers, hence the departure of Major Novastar and his ship and the unavailability of the Audacious,” Wilchu said.

  “I move that her petition to be placed in command of the navy be rejected and the matter tabled for now,” Lei-mey said from the Sulas table.

  The sudden declaration from Lei-mey—someone she thought she could count as an ally—stung Saracasi.

  In a whirlwind around her, the motion rejecting her petition was seconded and then voted on. It wasn’t until Faide addressed her directly that she realized it was over.

  “Major, we thank you for your dedication, but your service as naval commander will not be necessary,” her Nothan friend said, kindness in his tone despite the words. “I call this meeting adjourned.”

  The delegates began filing out of the small room, eventually leaving Saracasi alone with just Lei-mey. The Ronid woman remained at her seat, locking her multifaceted eyes on Saracasi. Once they were alone, Saracasi shook her head at Lei-mey. “I thought you would support this effort. You were the one who began this whole war,” Saracasi said.

  “No, it was your brother and my supporters breaking us out of prison that started this fight, and you know it. I merely seized that event t
o rally more support to oppose the Alliance,” Lei-mey replied, her tone that of a chiding teacher.

  “Either way, I don’t think you want to see it end with us just fading away without a fight, and if we don’t keep the pressure on the Alliance, that’s exactly what’s going to happen,” Saracasi retorted.

  “You think it would be better if Congress had voted to put someone else in charge of the military?” Lei-mey asked, calmly.

  “Maybe—depends on who it was.”

  “Not one with any more experience than you,” Lei-mey answered. “Just someone with more political savvy. Because that’s almost what happened. You brought this issue of leadership up without thought, and you almost got relegated to an insignificant role and placed under the command of a political lackey.”

  “Even that might be better than sitting around doing nothing,” Saracasi snapped back, though she wasn’t sure she believed her own words.

  Lei-mey sighed. “You burned much of the good opinion you once had.”

  “It doesn’t look like I had very much good opinion,” Saracasi said.

  “And your brother always claimed you were the one with the political sense,” Lei-mey chided. “Maybe that’s the problem. He knew he didn’t know anything, so he relied on Lahkaba. Maybe you would have, too, had he been here. But instead, you decided to try to wade in on your own.”

  A retort came to mind about Lei-mey being the one who had betrayed her on the matter, but she bit it back. Suppressing the urge to continue the argument, Saracasi waited. She could see why many people found the Ronid woman insufferable, but even now, she had to admit that Lei-mey knew what she was doing.

  “You’re well respected among the members of Congress for your part in starting our move toward independence, and more recently for your defense of Kol. You’re seen as a prodigy who does what must be done. Much like your brother, a person of action.

  “And right now, that’s the kind of person Congress needs. Peace is governed by politicians. War is won by action. Instead of seizing the opportunity and taking action, you came here hat in hand, begging for the authority to do something. Before, you were someone to be feared—now, you were someone to be controlled. Wilchu and Inecki took advantage of that to make you look stupid,” Lei-mey explained.

  Saracasi frowned at Lei-mey’s view of events. She didn’t like the conclusion—that her failure had been her own fault—nor the idea that coming to Congress for authority had been the wrong move. She had long advocated a rebellion against the Alliance, but she had never believed in anarchy. “So, what, I was just supposed to take the ships and go out on my own?” Saracasi asked, disbelieving.

  “Of course not,” Lei-mey chided. “But you were supposed to do what was necessary.”

  “What does that mean?” Saracasi asked.

  Lei-mey smiled in a creepy way, her mandibles clicking. “Nothing is free, Major. You certainly know that.”

  Saracasi let out an exasperated sigh. She should have seen this coming. “What do you want?”

  “Take me to Sulas,” Lei-mey said in a tone that made it sound like she was asking for a ride to the other side of town.

  “What?” Saracasi exclaimed. “Sulas? There’s no getting past that blockade without getting blown up or captured.”

  Lei-mey smiled again. “You were a smuggler, were you not? Isn’t that what smugglers do?”

  Shaking her head, Saracasi sat down at one of the empty chairs. “Smugglers slip illegal cargo through customs. Sometimes, they slip through sensor nets. But those are peacetime nets, not occupied planets blockaded by an entire naval fleet.”

  “Your ships made it through to Ailleroc.”

  “That was luck and Alliance over-confidence. We seem to be all out of the first, and we’ve worn out our uses of the second,” Saracasi argued.

  Lei-mey shrugged. “That’s unfortunate. If you can get me to Sulas, all of your command problems will go away. You will have the perfectly legal authority to take command of the ships you need and without begging Congress for it.”

  Looking at Lei-mey, Saracasi considered her options. Going rogue wasn’t really an option. She would never convince the captains of those cutters to follow her without authorization.

  “Okay, what’s your plan to make that happen?” Saracasi asked.

  Lei-mey gave her a Ronid’s disturbing version of a smile but said nothing.

  With a sigh, Saracasi finally relented. “All right. But if you die, it’s your own damn fault.”

  Lei-mey shrugged. “It always will be.”

  A week had gone by since the last time a guard had taken him for an interrogation. Or, at least, Maarkean thought it had been a week. It had been several days, he felt sure. Even though he hadn’t been tortured during that time, he didn’t really have a lot to help him gauge the time.

  “Once you get past the repeated torture, this place isn’t so bad,” Lohcja said from his bunk.

  “Right up there with some of the finest resorts I’ve ever stayed at,” Maarkean replied.

  As he stood up, Lohcja said, “Twenty-hour-a-day room service. Fine bedding made from only the cheapest material. And a view.”

  Maarkean began stretching while Lohcja talked. With both of them standing, they didn’t have a lot of open space. But with nothing else to do, they had taken to sparring much of the time. Granted, given their injuries, it was a sad excuse for sparring that would have inspired either pity or amusement from anyone who could have seen it, but it still made them feel better somehow.

  Ronid bodies didn’t work quite the same as Braz, so Lohcja just stood there, waiting for Maarkean to finish stretching. “Come on. I only have all day,” Lohcja said with mock impatience.

  Maarkean smiled and then moved from his current stretch into an attack, though one accompanied by a bit of a stagger. The move caught Lohcja off guard, and he stumbled back into the wall. Maarkean swung again, and with nowhere else to retreat to, Lohcja hastily tried to block. Then Maarkean faltered from a wave of dizziness, and Lohcja had an opening. After this first round, they broke into a pattern of practice moves, and Maarkean felt the rest of the world wash away into the background.

  They continued to exchange blows, though much more gentle ones than they had ever used before their capture and harsh treatment at the hands of the Alliance, until Maarkean felt exhaustion overtaking him. He felt his whole body covered in sweat. Lohcja looked just the same as when the pair had started, Ronids not having a lot of outward physical signs of exhaustion.

  “You think we killed four, five hours?” Maarkean joked through gasps for air.

  “No, at least eight. The war’s probably over now, and we’ll be released in a few minutes,” Lohcja replied.

  The pair collapsed onto their bunks.

  Several long minutes went by in silence. Maarkean considered taking a nap but tried to stop himself. He was tired, but he’d been sleeping far too much. There wasn’t much else to do here, but he was concerned about the implications of wanting to sleep all the time.

  He tried to think of some new topic of conversation he and Lohcja could discuss. They had run out of new ideas a few days ago. Unfortunately, despite being friends, they didn’t have a lot in common. They had tried to use that to their advantage, since their knowledge bases covered vastly different areas, but the end result had been one-sided lectures rather than conversations.

  “Why have they left us alone?” Lohcja asked into the silence.

  The question hung in the air while Maarkean tried to decide whether or not to ignore it. They had been avoiding the topic in an unspoken agreement not to jinx it, but it had been one of the things foremost on Maarkean’s mind.

  Letting out a sigh and a shrug, which he knew Lohcja couldn’t see, Maarkean said, “Probably a new tactic. Psychological torture. Hoping we’ll discuss something of vital importance in our boredom. Giving us time to heal for a new round of attempts. Maybe they just got bored and ran out of new and creative ways to make us suffer.”

&nbs
p; Lohcja let out an unsatisfied noise. “You were once an Alliance officer. What do you actually think?”

  “Actual Alliance officers would never do this,” Maarkean snapped, resenting the implication. “The ones torturing us aren’t Alliance officers. They’re the ones we’re fighting against.”

  “Right,” Lohcja said cautiously after a minute. “Okay. So why would anyone do this? What can they possibly gain?”

  “Revenge,” a voice said, startling Maarkean.

  Above him, Lohcja let out a noise, and Maarkean heard the Ronid slam his head into the low ceiling. Ignoring Lohcja’s curses of pain, he turned to look through the bars of their cell.

  A young Braz woman in an Alliance lieutenant’s uniform stood outside the cell. She bore a dark blue screfa and an intelligence corps pin on her breast pocket. “The ship’s intelligence chief’s brother was aboard the cruiser destroyed during the battle. He’s been doing all of this just out of revenge,” the lieutenant said.

  Maarkean frowned. “That’s a lot of effort for revenge.”

  The lieutenant shrugged. “Revenge is a powerful motivator. But the chief has been relieved. I’m Lieutenant Merski, and I have taken over your care.”

  “So I suppose we have you to thank for our luxurious vacation?” Lohcja quipped.

  Merski nodded. “Yes. After the chief’s reprehensible behavior was discovered, I decided you both could use a few days’ rest.”

  Lohcja let out an odd laugh. “I think I’ve seen this one before. What was that show, Crime and Justice? Yeah, you’re playing the role of the good cop.”

  “I assure you, nothing of the sort,” Merski stammered.

  “Save it, Lieutenant,” Maarkean said. “We appreciate the break, but we don’t buy the story for a second. All of this was done by a single chief out for revenge? That’s a lot of power for an intelligence spook to have aboard a warship. We’ve been ‘interrogated’ by many different crewmembers and treated by the medical staff. There’s no way the captain wouldn’t be aware of it after this long. That means they’re all complicit.”