by Lyn Gala
The man on the radio answered. “That frequency couldn’t travel far. We have a snooper in local space.”
“Meaning?” Temar could hear the sharp edge to his own voice.
The captain answered. “It means that they are using this to create vid. Pentalia is transmitting to someone local, and they’ll take the images back for general distribution.”
“Why?” This still didn’t make any sense to Temar. Why wouldn’t they ask for something? Temar would pay any price to get Shan back, but he couldn’t make that clear if they weren’t talking to the captain.
“To terrorize people. He’s creating a vid that will terrorize people in the hopes that our government officials and citizens will be so frightened that they’ll run to the Planetary Alliance for protection. Isn’t that right, Black?” The captain glared at the table with the display, since Black wasn’t in the room.
Black didn’t answer.
“Send the message over,” the captain ordered, his voice clipped. “Ambassador, you may not want to watch this.”
Clamping his teeth together to avoid getting sick, Temar ignored the captain and kept his eyes on the screen.
“Captain,” Black said, and then he paused. “I am sorry, but regulations forbid the transmitting of communications to an AFP vessel.”
“You’re already sending us vid,” Temar argued when the others were silent too long.
“I’m skirting the edge of insubordination, but there’s no actual rule against providing AFP with images when they request them. There is a rule against transmitting intelligence to an AFP ship. Ambassador, I am sorry, and I will send an immediate request for permission to share this, but….” He let his voice trail off, making it clear that either he didn’t expect to get permission or he didn’t expect it to come in time to do any good.
“Brazica out.” With that curt statement, the captain flipped the communications off and stood up. “Ambassador, I am sorry, but I can largely tell you the contents of the message. We’ve seen them before.” Helgen stared off at the wall, his back oddly stiff. “Pentalia will make a number of political statements while pointing weapons at the ambassadors. He will likely force them to make statements in favor of a particular position, or perhaps force them to apologize for atrocities that the terrorists imagine our government commits. Then he will kill them and promise that his organization will do the same to any that oppose them before he shoots himself in the head. He may or may not have additional bombs placed on the Brazica, and if he does, rather than shooting himself, he will trigger that bomb and blow us all up as his final act.” For the first time since starting his speech, Captain Helgen looked down at Temar with eyes that looked ancient and pained.
“Ambassador, I am sorry, but at this point, I’m going to have to take care of my ship and my people. We need all hands focusing on clearing the ship of dangers, now that we know we have a snooper collecting vid. I will not die in a commercial for terrorists and their ridiculous claims.” The captain gave Temar a nod, and without waiting for Temar to marshal any arguments or make a last final demand for Shan’s life, the man left.
Temar stared at the captain’s chair, his brain unable to even comprehend what he’d said.
“Temar?” Natalie asked, her voice soft. Temar looked over at her, unable to form words.
“I’m sorry. He was a good man. He was a truly good man.” Her eyes shone, and she sucked in a fast breath as the tears threatened.
“He’s not dead,” Temar said. He wouldn’t count Shan out, not now. Not ever.
Rula stood up and came several steps closer before stopping. “We’ve all lost people to this war. I’m sorry that you’re having to lose Shan when you aren’t part of the fight, but war is messy. Natalie and I should help clear the ship. If there’s a bomb, we can’t let these people take anyone else.”
“But you’ll let them take Shan?” Temar demanded. Fury rose in his throat until he wanted to tear and rip at Rula, to take that sympathetic expression and turn it into pain and horror.
“Let them, no. However, they took him because we weren’t good enough to protect him. I am sorry.” Rula backed up a step. “Officer Aral?”
Natalie looked from Rula to Temar. “I do understand,” she offered.
Temar exploded out of his chair, and Natalie stumbled backward, away from him. “No, no you don’t. Rula is here and safe. Don’t tell me that.”
Once the shock passed, Natalie’s face lost all emotion. “At eleven years old, I hid under a pile of trash while soldiers raped my mother and slit my father’s stomach open so that he would live long enough to see her suffer. I lay there helpless while that happened, Ambassador Gazer.” Her face turned hard. “I do understand. But I couldn’t do anything then, and I can’t do anything now.” She looked at the ceiling for a second.
“We should help clear the decks,” Rula said softly, but all of her sympathy had vanished as she glared at Temar. Natalie nodded, and she turned and strode out of the room without a backward glance.
Temar felt the tears hot in his eyes, but he refused to cry. Crying would mean giving up on Shan, and he wouldn’t do that. Shan had walked off the desert. He’d survived Ben and old Yan Polli and Ben’s minions who sent people after him to shoot him. Shan had put it all at the feet of God, laughing as he passed it off as God taking care of fools. But Temar had to believe it was Shan. Shan was too tough to die. He wouldn’t give up, not ever, and Temar had to be the same.
Temar’s eyes landed on the captain’s controls at the head of the table. The pain and fear turned cold as a plan formed. Wiping at his eyes, he went to the captain’s chair and paused to take enough breaths to make sure he could get words out past the fear lumped in his throat. Then he reached for the controls.
“Verly Black?”
“I’m here, Captain.” The vid blinked on to show Black’s face. “Oh, Ambassador, I apologize. What can I do for you?”
Right now Temar needed information. “If I transfer to your ship, could I see those feeds?” Temar asked.
Black blinked quickly—shock, probably. “Are you an official of the AFP?”
“No, I’m here trading goods for Livre.”
“Livre?” Black did more blinking. “Do you have a standing alliance with the AFP or are you a member planet now?”
Temar shook his head. “No. Ambassador Polli and I turned down an offer of alliance. We’re here to trade and to look around long enough to understand the universe.”
Black’s voice turned sympathetic. “And you got more of an understanding than you expected. If you are a free agent, there are no regulations against me transporting you or sharing communications. You’re welcome on board, Ambassador. However, I would ask that you leave guards behind. I would prefer to not be outnumbered or outgunned on my own ship.”
“I don’t have guards.”
“You don’t? Ambassador, you are succeeding in shocking me when I thought I’d seen everything.”
“My people generally try to avoid killing each other. If I do come over, will you allow me to come back here for transport back to Livre?”
Black took a second to think about that. “Yes, sir. I will warn you that if PA gunships get here first, the ranking officer will likely demand a meeting, but they cannot hold an official of a nonaligned planet for any extended time.”
“Just a short time, then,” Temar interpreted that. Black certainly didn’t correct him. Temar was starting to question the sanity of the entire universe. “I want to transfer over. How do I do that?”
“Will the captain let me dock? That’d be easiest.”
“I’ll talk to him.” Temar could feel the fear start to slip back to manageable levels as he had a definite task in front of him. “I’ll call you back.” Temar turned off the communications while Black still had his mouth open to respond.
Heading out onto the bridge, Temar immediately spotted the captain back in his chair. None of the screens on the wall showed the unreal images from Shan’s room, but that
didn’t matter now. “Captain,” Temar said calmly, walking up to the side of the captain’s table. One of the two officers flanking the captain looked up, but Helgen kept his eyes on his work.
“I don’t have time for debate, Ambassador.”
“No debate, Captain. You have to take care of your people.”
Helgen looked up, clearly surprised.
“Clear a place for Black to dock. I’m transferring to his ship.”
Bolting out of his chair, Helgen moved into Temar’s face, stopping only when they were scant inches apart, but Temar refused to back down. “The Planetary Alliance will get their hands on you and force your planet to join. You’re volunteering to be a hostage against all your people. Are you willing to do that?”
Temar shrugged. “My planet is a lot more pragmatic than you think. They’d let Ambassador Polli and me both die before being forced to do anything. And if the PA tried to take over the planet, their bodies would feel the sandrats and the sandstorms would bury their ships in minutes. They’re welcome to try.”
“And they will. My grandfather worked for those soul-sucking bastards. They’ll do anything to get their way.”
“So will I,” Temar pointed out. Helgen pulled back, studying Temar. “My first goal is to secure Ambassador Polli’s safety. After that, the Planetary Alliance may find us as difficult to negotiate with as you do. Consider it passing along your headache.”
That made Helgen smile. “Are you sure you’re diplomatic? You sound more like a tactician.”
“On Livre, we all learn to take care of ourselves young.”
The captain turned to look at the two officers who sat on either side of his chair before returning his attention to Temar. “Why all this effort for one man?” he asked with solemnity.
While the easy answer was that Temar loved Shan, Temar realized that he would take this risk for anyone, even some stranger from Blue Hope. He struggled to find a way to explain that to someone who clearly didn’t have the same values. “It’s who we are as a people,” Temar said as he realized the real difference. “We’ll give up things easily enough. The desert teaches you to live without a lot. However, if one person on Livre is at risk, we’ll all fight. We’ll kill any enemy that even threatens our world, our citizens, or our water. We’re not a very reasonable people.”
The captain pursed his lips and studied Temar for a long time. “Arden, did you get a truth reading on that?”
“Yes, sir. He’s completely truthful,” one of the two flanking officers offered.
Captain Helgen took a long breath before he turned to his controls and starting pressing buttons. “Lieutenant Commander Black, you have clearance to dock on beta strut, emergency dock nine-two-nine. Confirm that you are reading the beacon.”
“Affirmative. I have a lock on the beacon and am moving into position for an emergency dock.”
“Remain on course for docking, and Black… I wouldn’t suggest you try to meet us at the door.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Black immediately answered. Temar didn’t understand the reference, but he suspected that both sides were compromising as much as they could, given their clear hatred for each other. Helgen turned off the communications before turning to face Temar.
“Corpsman Reicks will walk you down to the dock. I really hope you know what you’re doing, Ambassador.”
“So do I,” Temar admitted. “Thank you for your help.”
“I hope our people will still work together in the future.” The captain gave Temar an intense look, but then, if Temar had invited new friends over to his house only to have them blown up, he’d worry about the friendship too.
“I hope so. We could both benefit from trade. I expect I’ll hear from your alliance about having Officer Aral stationed to a diplomatic post planetside.”
Helgen smiled. “I’ll relay the request, Ambassador. Just make sure you’re down there to meet her.”
Temar nodded. At this point, he couldn’t make promises. He didn’t know what the PA would do, but he did know that if he had to risk his own life to save Shan, he’d do it in a second. He only hoped he’d have the chance.
A short man who looked younger than Hannal’s oldest stepped forward. “Ambassador, if you’ll follow me, I’ll show you dock beta nine-two-nine.” Temar took a deep breath and followed the escort.
Chapter 29
TEMAR waited in the air lock as the door to the Brazica sealed with a series of clicks and thumps. The door into the Phrike stayed sealed, the ship’s name displayed in blocky letters above the door that would open to allow him into the ship. Despite the fact that he really didn’t know what he was doing, doing something felt better than sitting and waiting.
The door behind him finally fell silent, and the Phrike door gave two good thunks before it swung open. Inside, Black stood waiting. He was a large man, larger than Temar had expected after seeing him on the screen. He stepped forward and offered his hand. “Lieutenant Commander Verly Black.”
Temar took his hand and shook it. “Ambassador Temar Gazer of Livre.”
Black wasn’t quite as muscled as Naite, but his shoulders were wider than Shan’s and he was taller than both brothers. Considering that Temar tended to use Naite as a measure of how large a person could get, Black was large.
“If you’ll follow me, Ambassador, I’ll set you up with the current feeds.”
“Temar.”
“Excuse me?”
Temar sighed and considered Black. They’d tried the quiet approach with the AFP and it hadn’t gone well. Besides, Temar’s nerves were frayed from too much verbal dancing and too little truth. “My people don’t care about titles the way yours seem to. I’m Temar. If on any given day I’m an ambassador or a landowner or a glassblower, I’m still Temar.”
“Yes, sir,” Black offered. He gave Temar an odd look, but he headed into his ship and Temar followed. “I have the feeds tied into the copilot’s chair. I can redirect them to private quarters if you prefer.”
“I don’t.”
“I didn’t figure you would,” Black said with some amusement.
“Should I call you Lieutenant or Black or Verly?” Temar asked as Black started climbing a ladder. He looked down at Temar.
“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t call me Lieutenant. That’s a little more of a drop in rank than I’d prefer. If you want to call me by my rank, it’s Lieutenant Commander. If there’s more than one Lieutenant Commander around, you can add Black to the end of that. No one calls me Black, but if you want to call me Verly, it’d make me a little more comfortable about calling you Temar.” With that, he started climbing.
Temar followed. This ship clearly wasn’t designed for many people to share it, with narrow passages and ladders instead of elevators, but everything was clean and sleek. Verly headed down a narrow hall into a room that Temar immediately recognized. Dropping down into one seat, Verly gestured toward the second one. “Ambassador,” he said, inviting Temar to sit.
“Have there been more signals?” Temar asked as he settled down into the chair. It had high sides, and even Temar’s head was caught between two winglike structures that meant he could only look straight ahead without leaning forward in his chair. He shifted around until he got one leg under him and he could lean toward the control panel. One screen showed the greenish shadow forms that Temar had seen from the Brazica.
“No. But if there’s a snooper in the area, they’ll be transmitting on a tight beam, and the terrorists won’t move to the next step until they have confirmation that the vid successfully reached its destination.”
“Which is?”
Verly glanced over and then turned his whole chair to face Temar. “How much do you know about local politics?”
“Local as in who on Livre is most likely to file a council complaint about a neighbor’s boar, a lot. Local as in all this?” Temar gestured toward the controls and vid screens. “Nothing. This is my first time up here.”
Verly sighed and gave a nod
. “Here’s the short of it. The PA gets accused of being micromanaging warmongers who try to force everyone to follow their rules. The AFP is a repressive government that claims to offer freedom while anyone who disagrees with their definition of free disappears. There are at least four major terrorist groups—two are associated with trying to put pressure on the AFP in order to get planets to break away from them. One attacks the PA, pretty much to annoy us, since our allies aren’t likely to change sides.”
“And the fourth?”
Verly made a face. “They’re just sort of nuts. They think God has told them that humanity is a disease corrupting his perfect planets. And then you have any number of homegrown terrorists with less elaborate plots. This looks like an FFA operation, Freedom for All. They’re the most vocal about condemning the AFP’s sins, and they have a hit list of diplomats and officers they want to kill.”
Temar closed his eyes and silently cursed the fact that he hadn’t known any of this.
“I have the broadcast vid ready,” Verly said after a moment.
Temar nodded. “Okay. Put it on.” Temar watched the screen as Pentalia appeared on the screen. Shan knelt on the floor next to one of Ambassador Melton’s aides, who had blood all over his shirt and face. Shan had his hands bound behind his back, while Melton sat in his chair with Pentalia’s gun to the side of his head. Temar watched while Melton made a long confession to ordering the executions of workers who had disrupted the mining on some moon Temar didn’t know. The ambassador was white-faced, with a bruised cheek that had a lazy trickle of blood sliding over it. The transmission ended with Pentalia making a grandiose claim that his group wouldn’t stop until freedom meant free.
“Nothing more?” Temar asked.
Verly shook his head. “The snooper will wait for confirmation that the message made it through. Then he’ll either torture Melton or simply execute him on vid.”
“And Shan?”
“Have you done anything they might not like?”
“We’ve only been here two days.”
