by JP Raymond
Gwen Carter sat across the room.
She looked like hell. Her hair, bushy to begin with, was a mess. Sweat beaded on her skin and stained her Space Ranger uniform.
But her brown eyes stared softly at him. A mixture of hope and horror swirled across her lovely coffee-with-cream complexion. His heart skipped several beats.
“Gwen,” he said, but he couldn’t think of anything to add. He opened and closed his mouth several times before finally offering only, “I can explain.”
Her thick, luscious lips curled up into a slight smile. She shook her head.
“It’s a little late for that,” she said.
He didn’t know how to respond. What did she mean? Was she here to arrest him? After all that?
“Ranger Carter and I have spent an extensive amount of time briefing the Tribal Council,” Kitekh said. “I’m not sure anyone has a full understanding yet of what’s happened. But Horay Kel is either a part of the conspiracy, or he’s gone insane in his attempts to apprehend us.”
“Fucker tried to kill me,” Gwen said.
“What?” JaQuan said.
The drugs seemed to still be addling his mind. This wasn’t making sense.
“After your ship escaped at Cecilak, Captain Kel was pissed,” Gwen said. “He brought me aboard his vessel and questioned me. I made the mistake of telling him how I found you. He responded by putting me back on my ship and then blasting me with particle cannon.”
“Jesus, how did you survive?”
“Dumb luck, I guess,” she said. “He destroyed my ship but didn’t kill me. Fortunately, Governor Mrahr’s shuttle had torn off Cataan’s Claw and was floating nearby. I had to go EVA to get to it.”
“Shit, you hate EVA,” he said.
“Tell me about it,” she replied. “But it was better than dying.”
“After having heard Ranger Carter’s story, the Tribal Council has refused to deal with Captain Kel,” Kitekh said. “They’re demanding a direct conference with the Emperor.”
“Holy shit,” JaQuan whispered.
He could only begin to guess at the implications of refusing orders from the Imperial Star Force and demanding to speak with the Emperor. Especially since they were holding the woman who had killed his daughter.
“Where are Cooressa and Brody?” he asked.
“In the Council’s custody,” Kitekh said. “Speaking of which, the Council wishes to interview you.”
“Why me?” he said, alarm exploding through his heart.
“They see you as the axle on which this entire wheel turns,” Kitekh answered.
“What?”
“It was you who knew James Brody and got him aboard my ship. It was you who had a past romantic relationship with Ranger Carter, which gave Cooressa her opportunity to keep pursuit of us alive. And because Ranger Carter attempted to apprehend us at Cecilak, she inadvertently interfered with Captain Kel. That in turn led to him learning we would flee here, since Cooressa impersonated you again, hoping to draw her.
“And of course, now that he is here, he has put the Tribal Council into a direct confrontation with the Emperor.”
“But I didn’t do any of that,” he said. “Idrib Mol’s conspiracy pulled all the strings.”
“Relax, JaQuan,” Gwen said. “You’re not in trouble. They think you’re some kind of superhero.”
She rolled her eyes at that suggestion. Kitekh smiled.
“Thanks in no small part to Alan’s enthusiastic descriptions,” Kitekh said. “Regardless, Ranger Carter is correct. The Council does not believe you are guilty. They do not wish to prosecute. Rather they are interested in how this man, this human who did not appear at first inspection to be anything but ordinary, was somehow at the center of this grand conspiracy. How such a person could defeat a Graur champion in single combat.”
“Shit,” JaQuan said. “I got lucky. I wasn’t trying to shoot off his toes. I triggered the Far-Biter on accident.”
“The Council does not believe in accidents or chance. God has a plan, and by becoming Graur – for indeed you have in our eyes – you have shown he has his mark on you. They wish to understand your importance.”
JaQuan shook his head. Jesus, he hated the Empire. It was as bad as America – everyone believing angels were real and God had a special plan for each person. There was no divine intervention here. Kitekh was injured and unable to fight for her innocence. JaQuan had opened his mouth and insulted the Tribal Council, so they’d forced him to be her proxy. Mrahr appealed for JaQuan to be given a Far-Biter. They listened, and it was the difference in the fight. Not only had JaQuan used its powers to win, his lucky shot that had maimed Muur leveled the playing field and bought him the time he needed to prevail. It wasn’t God or destiny. It was luck.
But of course, that wasn’t how the Tribal Council or anyone else in the Empire would see it. They all saw God guiding his hand.
“That was some shit you pulled off in there, JaQuan,” Gwen said, admiration in her tone.
His heart fluttered again. There was so much he wanted to say to her, so much to apologize for. But Kitekh was here, and the Tribal Council wanted to grill him about why he was some sort of messiah.
Plus, he doubted she would return any of his feelings. He hadn’t exactly run out on her. But he had told her she was an Uncle Tom. There was no forgiveness for that.
“Okay,” he said. “Let’s go talk to the Council.”
He tried to sit up. Pain savaged his side, and he flopped back to the bed.
“Careful,” Kitekh said. “Gurinn Muur caught you a vicious blow to the side. It took seventy stitches to put you back together.
“I’ll summon a medic to help you get up and give you a local anesthetic.”
She rose and went out. JaQuan lay back in awkward silence. What could he say to Gwen that she would want to hear?
She stood and crossed to the bed. Putting her hands on the rail, she gazed down on him for several seconds.
“That was a brave-ass thing you did,” she said.
“What was?”
“Proxying for Kitekh. You could have been killed.” She smirked. “You should have been killed.”
“Yeah, well, they wouldn’t let Rorgun do it. He wanted to. I went and shot my mouth off, so they decided I got to be the one to fight that giant motherfucker.”
She smiled.
“Still,” she said. “It was pretty fucking brave. You’ve changed, JaQuan. Either that, or I misjudged you.”
He tried to think of something clever. Nothing came. She just stood over him being beautiful, and his brain turned to mush.
Kitekh returned with a medic. JaQuan didn’t know if he was relieved or disappointed.
Ten minutes later, he was on his feet, and Kitekh was leading Gwen and him to a meeting with the Tribal Council. The painkiller had burned like liquid fire when the medic injected him, but his side was pleasantly numb now. His arms still itched, but for the moment, it was tolerable.
“I’m indebted to you, JaQuan,” Kitekh said as she escorted him down the hall. “Acting as a proxy for someone is a dangerous business under ordinary circumstances. For a human to do it is beyond measure.”
“And he won,” Gwen added.
JaQuan flashed her an irritated look. Kitekh’s gratitude was embarrassing enough, given what had happened between them. It was worse listening to it with a witness, and he wished Gwen wouldn’t encourage her.
“Exactly,” Kitekh said. “I owe you my life. That is a bond that is not broken in this lifetime in Graur culture.”
“You’re welcome,” he said. “But I think you’re going a little over the top. My ass was on the line too. So were Alan’s and Rorgun’s and Governor Mrahr’s. Somebody had to fight. The ‘mighty’ Chieftain decided she wanted it to be me. Y’all can tell me how brave I was all you want. But I did it because I had to. That’s it.”
Gwen snorted.
“You still don’t understand what true courage is,” she said.
&nbs
p; They made it to the Council chamber before he could retort. The Elders were crowded in a circle, conferring with each other and looking worried. Mrahr was present, as was an older female Graur with golden fur that had gone slightly grey around her muzzle.
JaQuan could feel tension in the room. It crackled through the air on waves that seemed to prickle his skin. It was an odd sensation. But he knew immediately something was up.
The orange tabby from Kitekh’s tribe saw them first. He rose and came forward, bringing the golden female with him.
“Ah, at last,” he said. “The human who taught honor to the Graur. Welcome, Mr. Jones.”
He extended a hand. JaQuan shook it.
“I see you know your Earth customs,” JaQuan said.
“Ranger Carter has been educating me,” he said. “I am Drekraar Galesh. This is Councilor Renakh Nakuur. It is a pleasure to formally make your acquaintance.”
Galesh? Was Drekraar a relative of Kitekh’s? They were from the same tribe.
“An honor,” Councilor Nakuur said.
“Nice to meet you too,” JaQuan said. He faced Drekraar Galesh. “Thanks for sticking up for me during the trial.”
“As I said, Mr. Jones, you showed us what honor is.”
“I just reminded you,” JaQuan said. “You already knew.”
“Nevertheless, we are grateful,” Galesh said. “I only wish we were meeting under happier circumstances.”
“Has something happened?” Kitekh asked.
“I am afraid so,” Councilor Nakuur answered.
“Kitekh,” Mrahr said, disengaging from the circle of elders. “Things have taken a turn for the worse.
“Good to see you up and around, Mr. Jones. That was an impressive fight.”
“Thanks,” JaQuan said. “Governor, what happened?”
“More Imperial ships have arrived,” he said. “And they have a writ from the Emperor.”
T rue courage is doing what has to be done, even when it’s unpleasant or dangerous. The Empire doesn’t understand this. It’s caught up in blind ambition and arrogant puffery. The fires of its destruction have already been lit.
And no one has the guts to put them out.
Will JaQuan’s victory in Ritual Combat matter?
Will the Tribal Council yield to the Emperor’s writ?
Is this the end of the crew of Cataan’s Claw?
Find out in the soul-searing conclusion to Empire’s End Season 1, “Armageddon”!
Available June 29, 2018.
Tap here to preorder and have it autodelivered wirelessly to your Kindle!
Author’s Note
This is it, Y’all. One episode left. Everything has been leading to this – the big confrontation between Idrib Mol and Kitekh Galesh. Who wins? What happens? Does the Empire actually end? The answers in Episode 13.
I want to thank everyone for reading this far. It’s been a dream writing an intricate sci-fi serial. I hope you’ll join me in a couple weeks to see how it all ends. As always, I could use more reviews. If you’ve liked the serial so far, I’d be grateful if you could tell others why you think it’s awesome.
Thanks, for coming this far. Don’t miss Episode 13.
Much love,
JP
Empire’s End
A Science Fiction Serial by:
JP Raymond
Episode 12:
Ritual Combat
Copyright 2018 JP Raymond
All Rights Reserved
Cover Design by:
Fleur Camacho
About the Author
JP Raymond was totally blown away by Star Wars in 1977. He spent the rest of his youth in love with Princess Leia, obsessed with all things science fiction, and railing against the identity of a certain Jedi Knight’s father.
He eventually went to college, where he studied literature and got all sorts of ideas about writing about the human condition and penning the Great American Novel into his head.
These days, he’s finally managed to author his own space opera saga. Empire’s End is his first foray into traditional science fiction, and he’s having a blast with it. He credits George Lucas for lighting the fire that got him here, but he refuses to accept Darth Vader as Luke’s father.
Send JP a subspace communication at [email protected] and tell him what you think of Empire’s End. He’ll reply.
