by Wayne Basta
Several minutes went by, and Maarkean remained silent. Deciding another shift in tactics was called for, she activated a holoprojector in the table. A translucent hologram of a Braz female appeared: Maarkean’s sister, Saracasi.
“I’ve looked into the history of your family. Your sister has quite the reputation as a radical. Very extreme viewpoints. But something didn’t sit right with me. Before this whole mess started, she had an arrest warrant out for treason for a riot that occurred on her campus. A riot that resulted in several deaths, including several AIS officers.
“In looking at the evidence, there doesn’t appear to be any indication that she was directly responsible for any of those deaths. Had she not run from the law, and instead gone through the process the way it’s supposed to work, I expect that treason charge would have been overturned with something minor.”
Katerina paused, looking Maarkean over. When the hologram of his sister had appeared, she had seen the first indication that his emotional shell might be cracking. His eyes had tightened and he’d sat up just a little straighter.
Continuing to try to exploit this vulnerability, Katerina went on, “Our early intelligence reports pegged her as a non-combatant. Supporting a rebel army, even fixing their ships, is still treason. But it’s a far cry from taking up arms. Sadly, it seems our initial reports were mistaken. Our latest reports indicate that she’s followed her brother’s example and is now leading the rebel navy in direct conflict with the Alliance.”
Maarkean’s eyes widened slightly and then drooped. If she had to guess, she would say that bit of news surprised and disturbed him more than anything else she had said. Her hunch about his sister being a weak point appeared to be true.
“Unfortunately, this means we’ll have to hunt her down. Your rebels are surprisingly well equipped, but in the end, they’re no match for my fleet. It’s only a matter of time,” Katerina said, her tone trying to indicate regret. “What a terrible way for a young woman to meet her end. So much life ahead of her. So much potential. I’m told the restoration of the scrapped experimental frigate you stole was, in large part, her work. What brilliance. Wasted. To die in a pointless battle.”
She let that last statement hang in the air for a long moment. Maarkean blinked a few times. She had him thinking about the consequences of this war. Now was the time to give him an out.
“But it doesn’t have to end that way. If the rebels lay down their arms, I have it in my power to pardon them for these crimes, as terrible as they’ve been. The leaders, of course, people such as yourself, would have to pay the price. But others, such as your sister… Maybe our intelligence is wrong, and she’s still just a misguided mechanic. People like her wouldn’t necessarily have to die if the war ended now.”
Maarkean cast a considering look at the hologram and then at Katerina. For a brief moment, she thought she might have broken through. But that moment passed, and what little emotion had shown on his face vanished, replaced by a passive expression yet again.
She had to admire his determination. Despite what he’d been through, despite the danger to his sister, he still wouldn’t give up. That was an admirable trait, even in an adversary.
But everyone had their limits. He’d shown chinks in the armor. She just hoped she had more time than he had determination.
“I’ll let you think about that for a while,” Katerina said, standing up. “I just hope you don’t think about it too long. Who knows how long we have before your sister’s luck runs out?”
She left the interrogation room, leaving Maarkean to dwell on the somber thought. You didn’t break someone in one interrogation, but she had planted the seed.
Major Anderson met her outside the interrogation room. She held out a datapad to Katerina as they walked. “I thought you would want to see this right away, Admiral.”
Curious, Katerina glanced down at the datapad, reading over the first-page summary. A dark smile crossed her face. “It seems our spy has finally delivered. We have the location of the rebels’ secret planet, and details about how they’ve been tricking our ships into thinking the FX-21 is with them. Very clever, I must admit.”
“The report matches what our recon scout found when visiting Kol. The FX-21 is still in orbit there,” Anderson added.
“Good. And it can continue to sit there, useless, while we destroy their leaders,” Katerina said, beginning to plan.
When Maarkean returned to his cell, Lohcja stood up immediately. For the first time since their imprisonment, his Ronid friend didn’t almost fall in the process. During their previous “interrogations,” Lohcja’s antennae had been injured, which damaged how he saw the world around him. While he still wavered, the medical attention he had received had repaired at least some of the damaged nerves.
The sight of his friend’s improved condition should have made Maarkean happy. Instead, it just added to his confusion. Ignoring Lohcja’s questioning look, he shuffled over to his bed and lay down. Turning to face the wall, he said nothing, hoping Lohcja would take the hint.
“Well, I don’t see any fresh bruises and your stitches are still intact. So I’m guessing the beatings to improve our morale haven’t resumed?” Lohcja quipped, not taking the hint.
Maarkean remained silent. Lohcja’s jokes had once been unstoppable, but until now, he hadn’t made one since the failed escape attempt. Things had definitely improved for them since their rescue from their previous brig cell.
Maybe Sartori was telling the truth. She did have a reputation for fairness as a commander. She had offered to help end the war peacefully and offer leniency to his sister. She could be lying about that, though. This could be another psychological torture technique, just like what Merski had pulled on them.
But the one thing he knew for certain was that, given a battle between Sartori and Saracasi, Sartori would win. He had confidence in his sister’s abilities to do many things, but defeating a tactical genius like Sartori wasn’t one of them.
He had started this war because of the corruption within the Alliance. People like the officers who had beaten and tortured him were the enemy. Hadn’t Sartori arrested them? Did that put them on the same side?
Maybe. He’d actually started this war to save Saracasi. Shouldn’t he end it if it meant doing that again? Her safety was his top priority.
All of these ideas and questions swirled around inside Maarkean’s head. He knew Sartori was manipulating him. Despite his confusion, there could be no doubt about that. But everything she had said had sounded true.
As Maarkean tried to straighten everything out, he realized that Lohcja hadn’t stopped talking. The Ronid had continued to ramble on about something, even without any feedback from him. Had the man fallen further off the cliff of insanity?
“So there I was, being yelled at by a Terran who was irate about us no-good aliens taking all the jobs. I hadn’t been working as a cabbie for long, so I wasn’t doing very well handling the situation. But that guy was doing an excellent job of scaring away any potential customers,” Lohcja was saying.
Maarkean tried to figure out what he could possibly be talking about. Lohcja didn’t like to talk about his last job as a cabbie. He felt it undermined his position within the Union army.
“This went on for a good five minutes. I asked the man several times if he would either get in the cab or step away. He never stopped ranting long enough for me to push the issue. Plus, an AIS officer was amongst the onlookers, and I didn’t want it to become physical.
“Anyway, in the middle of this guy’s rant, out of nowhere, Lahkaba walks up, slips right past him, gets in the cab, and closes the door. Now, we’d never met before. This shut the Terran right up, and he cast a glare down at Lahkaba through the glass. His face got all scrunched up, and he hollered, ‘How dare you take my cab!’
“And Lahkaba, just as casual as could be, looks up and replies, ‘That’s right—a dirty, no-good alien stole the cab driven by the other dirty, no-good alien that stole your job.’ He then looks at me a
nd says, ‘I’m ready to go.’ I hop over into the driver seat and we leave. That’s how we became friends.”
Lohcja trailed off there, apparently satisfied that he had succeeded in getting Maarkean to turn around.
He’d never known how Lohcja and Lahkaba had met. They had just always been friends. It made a better story than how he had met Lahkaba or Lohcja or Zeric. All had been at gunpoint.
“What was the point of that story?” Maarkean asked.
Lohcja gave the Ronid equivalent of a shrug using his antennae. “Thought it would be interesting. Sometimes it helps to think about friends while in a place like this. To remember those who are still out there, and what it is we’re fighting for.”
Maarkean lay back down on his bed. He agreed with Lohcja. It would be good to remember what he was fighting for. Unfortunately, he just couldn’t be sure anymore.
Chapter Fifteen
Early the following morning, Lahkaba was awakened by a knock on the door to his room. Grumpily, he crawled out of bed and opened the door, revealing Zoeko. She held their jamming device in her hand.
Groggily, Lahkaba sat down in one of the room’s chairs. He said nothing. Something important had clearly brought Zoeko here. It was too early in the morning to try to reason out what it was.
“I need you to do something,” Zoeko began.
Rubbing sleep from his eyes, Lahkaba remained silent.
After a moment, Zoeko continued, “I need you to find out what Rathalos is planning to do once the Dotran fleet departs.”
“Why are you coming to me with this? And in such secrecy?” Lahkaba asked.
Zoeko hissed quietly. “The others are already planning to get closer with our new rebel friend. But I don’t believe they’ll share what they learn with me.”
“And you expect me to?”
“Yes,” Zoeko said flatly.
“What makes you think he’ll share anything with me?” Lahkaba asked.
He didn’t like the idea of there being secrets among the members of their delegation. They were all supposed to be on the same side. But Zoeko was right—Valinther would surely attempt to hide what he learned from her.
“Isn’t it obvious?” Zoeko asked. “Rathalos clearly respects you. You’re a Kowwok who stood up for justice. You were the one he first revealed himself to. And it wasn’t until you all but ordered him to that he spoke to us.
“Valinther may understand him and may even support their resistance efforts more, but he’s just a politician. You’ve fought on the front lines. You were part of the group that started our war for freedom. You’re who Rathalos wants to be.”
Zoeko’s reasoning brought Lahkaba up short. He had never thought of himself in those terms. In the story of the rebellion in the Kreogh sector, Maarkean and Zeric had always been the ones viewed as heroes. He had received his share of praise and respect, but the way Zoeko described his role sounded much more heroic.
He wasn’t sure he agreed. She assumed that Rathalos knew far more about him than was likely. But then, half truths were often easier to worship than reality.
“Assuming you’re right, isn’t getting closer to him dangerous? If the Dotran find out we’re consorting with people hell-bent on overthrowing them, it will mean the end of any hope for a treaty. And probably our lives,” Lahkaba said.
“Yes, but if you can learn what the rebels are planning, we can use that knowledge as a bargaining chip with the Dotran,” Zoeko said with a dark smile.
“Betray the rebels?” Lahkaba said, disgusted. “Why would I do that? They’re my own people!”
Zoeko let out a sharp hiss. “No, they’re not. Your people live on Sulas and all the other worlds in the Kreogh sector. It was you who said we must stand together as a sector to win our freedom from the Alliance. That means putting the needs of the Union ahead of that of the people of Kowwa.”
The words stung, making him angry. Without thinking, he snapped, “So I’m just supposed to obey, like a good little Kowwok?”
A deep growl emerged from Zoeko, and she flashed her teeth. Instead of saying anything, though, she leaned back against the dresser behind her and took a deep breath. When she next spoke, her tone was more moderate. Her thick tail still thumped against the dresser—a sign of agitation.
“I don’t expect this to be an easy decision for you. And I apologize if I implied otherwise. But you must know that the odds of this resistance group succeeding are small.”
“So are the odds of the Union succeeding. Doesn’t mean we’re not trying,” Lahkaba countered.
Zoeko shook her head emphatically. “That’s different. My people keep a much tighter leash on the Kowwok than the Alliance ever did on any of our worlds. There’s also no history of resistance among your people.
“Yes, drafting Kowwoks into their military has opened the door to Kowwoks learning to fight. And yes, someday, that will probably lead to a revolution. But the odds of it succeeding will be higher if the Union gains its independence and can be there to provide support. Right now, we need the Dotran. In ten or twenty years, we might be in a position to help.”
Lahkaba’s first instinct was to argue, but he held his tongue. The Union needed Dotran help to gain their freedom. The Kowwoks would need help to gain theirs. Right now, he couldn’t give it to them.
“All right,” Lahkaba conceded. “I’ll try to find out more about them. But, this doesn’t mean I’m going to betray them. I want to try to convince them to wait.”
Zoeko looked like she was about to argue, but instead she nodded her head. “Very well. That will be good enough for me. I trust you to do what’s right for the Union.”
She left his room, leaving Lahkaba feeling guilty. He wanted to help the Kowwok resistance succeed, but he also agreed with Zoeko.
Watching out the shuttle’s window, Solyss saw the main city on Okaral start to take shape. The buildings of the settlement looked like nothing more than small rectangles from this height. They were built in the center of a wide ring of cultivated land. Even rows of different colored fields surrounded the city, extending a great distance. A few kilometers away, a massive hole had been dug into what had probably once been a mountain.
Turning away as they entered a cloud bank, Solyss looked over the other people in the shuttle. They were seated in an Alliance assault shuttle that had been acquired from the orbiting space station. Once the Tornado had fled and the Gallant had taken up a guard position near the station, resistance onboard had collapsed. The station’s commander had been killed in the marine assault on the command center, but her XO had surrendered.
Now, Solyss rode down to the surface, accompanied by a squad of marines led by Asheerah. Gamaly and Kueth had also insisted on joining them. Even though the Alliance forces on the station had surrendered, they hadn’t been forthcoming about how many troops were planet-side. No one knew what kind of resistance they would find below.
Noticeably absent from the group was Isaxo. Beside Solyss, Soo’bim Bidi‘kyre sat at the pilot station. The Liw’kel man normally flew as Ion Two. Isaxo had wanted to fly the team down to the surface, but Solyss had been forced to confine him to quarters for the time being. He hadn’t yet decided what to do about his young Notha squadron leader.
As Bidi’kyre set the shuttle down on the surface of Okaral, Asheerah readied her marines near the shuttle’s door. Solyss had allowed them to rest for a few hours after the assault on the space station, but he knew it hadn’t been nearly long enough. Hidden by their full-body suits of armor, they showed no outward signs of fatigue, but he knew it must be there.
Behind the marines, Kueth sat with his left leg shaking nervously. Solyss could sympathize with the man’s desire to reunite with his family. It had been years since he had seen his.
The shuttle door dropped suddenly, forming a ramp. Asheerah led the marines out onto a hard-packed dirt street. Solyss remained where he was, Asheerah having already hammered home the point that he was not to leave the shuttle until she gave the all-clear.
After several moments of silence, she gave it.
Solyss, Gamaly, and Kueth stepped off the shuttle. Overhead, the system’s dual suns beat down on them with savage intensity. The planet’s orbit placed this latitude in the middle of summer, and it was clearly not a pleasant season.
Before them lay the city. The square buildings he had seen from the air now revealed themselves to be shoddy, pre-fab, grey buildings. The dirt street cut a path between the buildings. Everything looked dirty and dilapidated.
The marines stood behind several crates and a parked vehicle that sat near the two buildings on the edge of the town. They were the only signs of life. Completely empty, the streets gave the city the look of a ghost town.
“Where is everyone?” he asked, looking at Kueth.
The other Terran bore a confused expression. He shrugged. “I have no idea. Hiding, maybe?”
As if in answer to his question, a blaster bolt flew out and struck the ground near Solyss’s feet. Solyss and Kueth both stood there, momentarily shocked. It took Gamaly grabbing his arm as she ran for cover to bring him back to his senses.
He followed Gamaly to the side of the nearest building. A marine—in the armor, he couldn’t tell which one—stood at the edge of the building. The marine had his rifle at the ready but was crouched down, presumably out of the line of fire. Despite feeling that it wouldn’t do him much good, Solyss decided to draw his pistol and move up beside the marine, even as he heard more blaster fire coming from around the corner.
“Report,” Solyss said.
“At least two shooters, sir,” the marine said. Solyss recognized the voice as belonging to Staff Sergeant Wurth Yuly.
Yuly leaned around the corner and fired a quick barrage from his rifle. He came back a second later, tilting his head slightly, as if listening to something. Sitting there, Solyss felt useless. He didn’t want to give any orders, knowing Asheerah could handle the situation herself. He would just get in her way.
Beside him, Gamaly looked as uncomfortable as he felt. She was similarly armed with a pistol but had made no move to join the fight. Solyss knew her proficiency with firearms, but the pregnancy limited her.
