Tree of Liberty

by Wayne Basta

  He considered shaving and also finding a clean uniform, since a smudge of something from his last meal could still be seen on his jacket. But the thought of going through the hassle annoyed him. He never would have bothered with either of those things before the war. Not unless he was going out for some fun. Women didn’t tend to like being picked up by slobs.

  Zeric let out another sigh and looked at the empty bottle mournfully. That was another thing he hadn’t done in a long time: find female companionship. The troop transport had a large number of women, some of them even Terran, but even he wouldn’t stoop so low as to sleep with his subordinates.

  And now he had a daughter to go home to. Even if this damned war ended with him alive and free of an Alliance prison, he couldn’t go back to his life of carousing. Responsibility would follow him forever.

  Brushing aside the issues with his appearance and his future, Zeric left his cabin and went down to the barracks. When the ship touched down, he spoke to some of the troops as he made his way to the boarding ramp. He didn’t mind this part of his job—he just would have preferred not having to order these same people who spoke so kindly to him to go get themselves killed.

  He was joined at the boarding ramp by Lei-mey and Gu’od. Lei-mey gave him a dark look, which he ignored. The number of things she disapproved of was a number higher than he could count to—at least, after finishing that bottle of wine—so he didn’t care what she took issue with now.

  At the bottom of the boarding ramp, Faide Darkthorne and Mayor Reva Shim waited for them, along with the Notha brigadier who was in charge of the remaining division on Irod. Zeric couldn’t remember the woman’s name. He’d never been good at remembering names.

  “General,” Faide said. “It seems your recruitment efforts were successful.”

  “Something like that,” Zeric replied. “We’ve got another three thousand troops—”

  A thunderous explosion drowned out the rest of his sentence. The boarding ramp shuddered, as did the ground beneath it. Zeric stumbled but managed to catch himself on one of the support struts. Some of the others weren’t as lucky and fell to the ground.

  Silence filled the moment after the unexpected explosion. Zeric was trying to figure out what had happened when more sounds of danger appeared. Loud clangs rang out as objects struck the transport above him. Other objects fell from the sky, slamming into the ground beyond him. Plumes of dirt cascaded into the air.

  Zeric was suddenly drawn back to the Colonial War. His unit had been trapped outside the protective bubble of a shield generator. Artillery fire had saturated the area, creating plumes of dirt not unlike what he was seeing.

  Reacting instantly, Zeric dropped to the ground, remaining underneath the protective hull of the transport. After a few seconds, the rain of objects striking the ground ended. Aside from that first one, there had been no other explosions. The dirt plumes hadn’t been artillery, he realized.

  Reluctantly, he picked himself up off the ground. His uniform was now smeared with mud from the damp ground, which hid the food stains well. And he had almost changed into a clean uniform.

  Cautiously, Zeric stepped out from underneath the transport and looked up. A giant cloud of smoke and gases filled the air a few kilometers above them. It took him a moment to realize that the cloud and the pieces of debris strewn around him were the only things remaining of one of the other troop transports.

  One thousand. That had been the number of troops on each transport. One thousand people. Dead in a fiery explosion.

  Transports didn’t just explode for no reason. Had it malfunctioned? No, ships were designed not to explode like that, even if they failed catastrophically—for some reason, engineers thought that losing power and suffocating in the cold blackness of space was preferable to a quick death.

  “Everyone get off the transport!” Zeric yelled as his mind clicked. “Move! Move! Move!”

  To match words to action, Zeric started running as quickly as he could away from the transport. Gu’od and the others were already right behind him. Once they got moving, Zeric paused and looked back. Troops had started making their way down the boarding ramp, but at a pace that was far too slow.

  With a low growl, Zeric headed back toward the transport, shouting, “Double-time it, people! Bloody run! Move it! Come on!”

  At his encouragement, the troops starting streaming off at a faster pace. The trickle turned into a stream. Finally satisfied that they were all coming, Zeric turned and resumed his run away from the transport. It wasn’t cowardice now, he decided. He would just be in the way if he kept standing there.

  He quickly reached Gu’od and the others, who had slowed about a hundred meters away. Waving his hands, he shouted at them to keep moving. The stream of troops followed him, and he felt that the group of them must have done the fastest team kilometer dash on record.

  Reaching the periphery of the town of Lost Hope, Zeric allowed himself to slow down. Breathing heavily, he looked at the transport in the distance. The bottom of the vessel was obscured by a rise in the land between them, but he could still clearly see the top. As he watched, fiery bolts of energy lanced down from the sky. The blaster bolts pummeled the transport and the ground around it.

  After only a few seconds of bombardment, the transport’s fuel lines ruptured and it exploded. A shockwave flashed out across the ground. Zeric and all the others were knocked to the ground.

  He wasn’t sure whether the distance or the slight hill had saved them, but he let out a sigh of relief when his insides weren’t turned to jelly by the concussion wave.

  Looking around, he made a quick estimate of those who had made it off the ship. Even with a generous estimate, he came up far short of the thousand who had been aboard, but at least they hadn’t all been vaporized.

  He saw no sign of the final transport. It had been the last in line for landing, and that probably gave it the best chance of survival. Still in flight, it might have picked up the attack force and had time to go evasive and raise its shields. There was a good chance that wouldn’t have saved it, though.

  Picking herself up, Lei-mey stared in horror at the smoking wreckage of their transport. Her antennae quivered nervously. She turned to Zeric and said, “What the hell was that?”

  “That, Madam Delegate, was the Alliance. It looks like they’ve found us.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  As Solyss entered the wardroom, he flashed back to a few days earlier when he had met Kueth here. Like before, Asheerah and Gamaly waited in the room. Also like last time, his mind was preoccupied with the disagreement between Tess and Isaxo. His XO wanted to bring Isaxo before a court martial.

  Fortunately for Solyss, the differences proved great enough to bring his focus back to the situation at hand. In addition to Asheerah and Gamaly, the cramped wardroom held two more marines. Gamaly thought no precautions too great when dealing with Josserand.

  Compared to his minion, Josserand himself was striking. Kueth sat nervously, but determined. Josserand sat there in a supremely confident and smug fashion. He had helped himself to a large glass of Solyss’s cognac.

  “Well,” Solyss began, trying to hide his irritation, “now that you’ve made yourself at home, we can get down to business.”

  “Wonderful,” Josserand said with a wide smile. “I’m quite anxious to learn what help I can be to the grand Union that you would come all the way out here to save little old me.”

  Gamaly frowned at him, but before she could say anything, Solyss said, “We know about your plan to capture the Black Market. But you got arrested before you could carry it out. You help us gain control of it, and you get your freedom back.”

  A momentary frown crossed Josserand’s face before the smile returned. “What makes you think I have the power to accomplish such a lofty task?”

  This time, Gamaly spoke before Solyss could. “Don’t play coy with me, Renard. You’re not surprised that we know about your plan for the Black Market.”

 
Unfazed by Gamaly’s statement, Josserand took another sip of cognac before replying, “No, of course not. How else would Kueth have convinced you to come here? What I’m surprised about is that Maarkean decided to take the chance to trust me. And that he’s not here himself.”

  “General Ocaitchi is a very busy man,” Solyss answered quickly. Almost too quickly, he thought in retrospect. There was no way word could have preceded them about the defeat at Sulas and Maarkean’s captivity fast enough to have made it to the ears of a prisoner. Then again, Josserand always seemed to be more informed than he should be.

  Josserand smiled again. “I’m sure he is. I guess he decided he had to find something for Ms. Dos’redna to do. She’s clearly of no more use to her husband.”

  Asheerah started to step forward, and Solyss got a flashback to the Liw’kel man in the cantina on Hollis. As much as he might see the appeal of breaking Josserand’s nose, it wouldn’t help them any. But before he could do anything to stop Asheerah, she paused and returned to her position against the bulkhead.

  Confused, he cast a glance at Gamaly and noticed the Liw’kel women’s antennae twitching rapidly. Something must have been said between them to stop Asheerah. He wished he had that kind of pull over her once she had decided to act… or over any of his crew.

  Proceeding as if nothing had happened, Gamaly said, “It’s not just Maarkean who doesn’t trust you, Renard. I’m here to make sure you keep up your end of the deal.”

  Josserand let out a soft chuckle. “What deal is that, my dear? I’ve made no deal.”

  “The deal was that we would free you in exchange for control of the Black Market,” Solyss said levelly. “The arrangement was made on your behalf by your employee, in good faith. Now, can you get us the ship or not?”

  Standing up from his seat, Josserand squeezed over to the small table that held the liquor. He poured himself another large glass of cognac. When he put the bottle back down, only a small amount of the expensive liquid remained.

  “You don’t expect me to feel constrained by an agreement which I had no part in, do you?” Josserand asked, his tone feigning shock. “Should you be held to an agreement Ms. Aru makes on your behalf, Captain?”

  “If the deal was made for my benefit by someone I trusted, such as Lieutenant Aru, then yes, I should,” Solyss answered honestly.

  “Well, that’s good to know,” Josserand said, his eyes predatory. He took another sip before continuing. “I, however, feel no such compulsion. Any deals you made with Mr. Kahl-Amar are between you and him. He definitely benefited a great deal from this transaction. I hope you got your money’s worth.”

  Quietly, Solyss fumed. He had feared something like this would happen. It was the entire reason he had persuaded Gamaly to join the mission.

  “You never answered his question, Renard,” Gamaly said, her tone revealing no sign of frustration. Considering the wild emotions she had been showing ever since leaving Kol, Solyss felt his respect for her climb.

  “No, I didn’t,” Josserand replied. “And if we’re done with this façade of me already being beholden to you, then I’m more than happy to begin the actual negotiations.”

  Solyss considered the statement. Maybe gaining control of the Black Market wouldn’t be just a simple matter of liberating an Alliance prison planet, but maybe there was still a chance. “That depends on whether or not you can gain control of the Black Market,” Solyss replied.

  “Yes, I can,” Josserand answered. A dark smile touched his eyes, though he kept his mouth flat. “What would that be worth to you?”

  “We’ll offer you the same deal we offered the Fox,” Solyss answered. “For the use of the ship for the duration of the war, the Union will grant you free and unmolested trade anywhere in Union space, along with docking permissions on any world, free from inspection. Plus, all damage sustained as a result of battle will be repaired at our expense.”

  “No wonder the Fox turned you down,” Josserand said with a laugh. “That’s a terrible deal. The Fox already has all of that, minus the docking permissions. I will as well, once I’m in control. What else do you have?”

  Solyss nodded, as if he had expected this. In truth, he didn’t know what else he could offer. Legitimacy under the law was all the fledgling government of the Union could provide. Maintaining and repairing the Black Market would be an astronomical cost by itself, but adding credits to the deal seemed to be the only option available to him.

  “What do you want, Renard?” Gamaly asked, impatience appearing in her voice for the first time. “You’re just going to reject whatever offer we make. So just tell us.”

  “You never could hold out very long,” Josserand said with a look toward Gamaly. “Very well: autonomy. As payment for the use of the Black Market during the war, the Trepon sector will be included in the peace with the Alliance. The entire sector must be granted to me. And I want to be an admiral in your navy. Something higher than Maarkean, but beyond that, it doesn’t matter.”

  Gamaly laughed. Solyss looked over at her. She’d done the same thing upon learning Josserand was in prison. Apparently, something about the man amused her. “You don’t think small, do you, Renard?” Gamaly said after a minute.

  “Thinking small doesn’t get you where I am in life.”

  “Freshly freed from an Alliance prison by a rebel army?” Gamaly quipped.

  Before the two could continue the exchange, Solyss intervened. “We can’t offer you the sector. The people here are free to choose their allegiance. Freeing Trepon from Alliance control we can do, but we won’t set you up as a tyrant.”

  “Of course not. I misspoke,” Josserand said, his tone indicating he hadn’t. “I will be given a free hand in Trepon, and the Union agrees not to interfere with me or any world that agrees to join me.”

  For some reason, this description made Solyss feel worse about the proposition than he had a moment ago. He didn’t like Josserand. The idea of giving the man any freedom with people, even ones who willingly agreed to follow him, didn’t sit well with him. The people of Okaral appeared to have made that choice, and it didn’t look good for them.

  On the other hand, the Union needed that warship. He didn’t think Congress had any interests in Trepon, aside from finding aid and undermining the Alliance. Giving Josserand a free hand here wouldn’t really mean much.

  “OK,” Solyss said. Gamaly cast him a shocked look, which he ignored. “Trepon will be included in the negotiations with the Alliance. All worlds will be free to choose their own destinies. The Union will not interfere.”

  “And the admiralcy?” Josserand asked.

  “That you won’t get,” Solyss said, his tone brooking no argument. “If you decide to swear loyalty to the Union, Congress may see fit to grant you a commission, and General Ocaitchi may even decide to assign you to serve aboard the Black Market. But that’s as close as you’re going to get to a flag rank. You’ll be welcome to remain aboard the ship as a civilian observer, otherwise.”

  Josserand stared intently at Solyss for a moment. Then he downed the last bit of cognac before standing up. “Then our negotiations here are over. I’m ready to return to my space station now.”

  “You mean our space station,” Solyss said, not falling for the tactic Josserand was clearly trying to employ. “We captured it from the Alliance. Under prize laws of war, it now belongs to the Union.”

  For a moment, Solyss got the sense that Josserand wanted to growl a curse, but he managed to maintain his air of calm. “Very well, to the surface, then.”

  A look passed between Gamaly and Asheerah, along with more antennae movements. A smile spread across Gamaly’s face as she looked at Josserand. “Certainly.”

  Gamaly’s smile sent a chill down Solyss’s back. He turned back to Josserand and saw that it had had the same effect on the other man, whose eyes narrowed as he studied Gamaly. A minute went by before Josserand responded. “Please return me to the same place we departed from,” he said coldly.

&n
bsp; Catching on to what Gamaly implied, Solyss seized the opportunity. “We can certainly open that up to negotiation. But how about this: instead of taking you down to the surface of a backwater planet with no hyperspace-capable craft, we instead provide you transport all the way back to the Kreogh sector. We’ll add that to our previous offer.”

  A tense moment went by while Josserand considered the offer. The prospect of living the rest of his life on Okaral could not have held much appeal for the crime lord. Even though he had the people of the city eating out of his hand at the moment, it wouldn’t last forever.

  Gamaly continued to smile. “Oh, come on, Renard. You get everything you were planning before your imprisonment. More, in fact, since Okaral is already Alliance-free and the Union will now pay to fully restore and repair the ship. Plus, you really wouldn’t want to get stuck down there for the rest of your miserable, yet short, life.”

  After another long moment, one Solyss thought Josserand held purely out of spite, the man nodded his head. “Very well, Captain Novastar, you have a deal.”

  Getting out of their apartments proved easier than Lahkaba had expected. He and Valinther had merely requested an opportunity to visit a place frequented by Kowwoks, and Bryel had agreed to escort them. The naval officer’s willingness to accommodate them made Lahkaba feel slightly bad for using him like this, but only slightly.

  At Rathalos’s suggestion, they went to a vartras hall, a form of sports bar. Rathalos himself would not accompany them, as the Dotran would view it poorly for him to fraternize openly with those he was supposed to serve. While Lahkaba couldn’t care less, he didn’t want any suspicion to fall on the man.

  When he and Valinther entered the vartras hall, his vision darkened and his other senses were overwhelmed. Removing the tinted shades from his eyes, Lahkaba took in the room. Plants of every shape and size lined the walls and hung from the ceiling. Only now, confronted with so many, did he realize he had seen very few in the city. Cities lacked an abundance of greenery by their very nature, but most species preferred to have at least some small reminders of the natural world.