Bad Bargain: A Space Rules Adventure Part 1

by Ian Cannon

  Ben greeted him with a smile, getting to his feet and extending a hand. The king stopped before him, confused by the gesture. There were no handshakes on Orbin. It was an odd tradition. Ben recoiled with a grin and said, “Your Highness, we don’t know how to…”

  “Nonsense. Did you enjoy the meal?”

  Ben nodded and said, “I’ve had meals before. This wasn’t a meal. This was something else.”

  The king gave him a bewildered tilt of the head.

  “I mean—it was a compliment. The meal, yes, it was fantastic.” He exchanged a glance with his wife. She shrugged.

  “Excellent. Come with me. We have something to discuss.” The king looked over at General Ona’Oona who stared back from across the broad table. Ona’Oona headed for the door as did the king with his guards in tow.

  Ben groaned, wondering if they were about to discover the true reason they were invited to stay, something unexpected, a ruse. He looked at Tawny.

  She said, “What now?”

  “I guess we follow them.”

  They stepped out of the dining hall, moved in silence down a wide, tall passage and up a broad stairway, and, eventually, into a long meeting chamber. The far wall had an expansive window revealing an ocean vista at night that took their breath away. A sea of calm, undulating water below, a sea of twittering night sky above. Big, bold mountains broke the shore line up to the west.

  The doors closed behind. They both turned. The guards were at the door, four silvery lances in hand, the king standing before them, Ona’Oona lurking to the side, those eyes always cast at them.

  The king moved to the window and stared out at the ocean. There was a deep love in his gaze. A threatened calm. He said, “Orbin is a great and wonderful world. Do you know our history?”

  Ben said, “Only what I was taught. I grew up on the Golothan lunar front. Orbin was always so far away.”

  The king looked at Tawny as if to present her the same question. She cleared her throat, said, “The Orbinii can fight like Wi’ahr hellions. That’s all I know.”

  The king made a one sided grin, as if her remark came as a compliment. He said, “We used to be a planet of nation states. Separate. Warlike. It is not like that anymore. Do you know why?”

  Ben said, “No.”

  The king inhaled as if beginning a great tale. “The war has united us. There was conflict. There always had been. When the Solar Twin Wars began we were hesitant to take sides. Did not want to fight. Had enough of that amongst ourselves. But then the war came to us. The Cabal was first.”

  “The Underworlders are a hideous lot.” Ona’Oona’s voice hailed from the flanks. They each looked over, Tawny preparing for the worst. But the general continued, unhindered. “Reprobates. Blood thirsty, raging ideologues. They have no faith except in a god system that would have them burn entire peoples, destroy and ravage. Slavers and usurpers, all. I do not care which planet they hail from—Solaptra, Omicron Prime itself or any other, when the Underworlders are gone and we have erased their ways, we will be free of tyranny. The Wi’ahr. Damnable evil.”

  Ben reached for Tawny’s hand, took it, calmed whatever storm might be raging inside her.

  King Oto cleared his throat, a long, veiny trunk, and said, “I will not restrict the general’s speech. We are free to express ourselves as we will, as are you, and I believe the truth will only unite. Nevertheless, the Underworlders believe in peace through might. We do not. So we resisted. We did not stand a chance. Their entire planetary cabal was pitched against our one planet. We suffered a choice—not as divided nations, not as a separated people, but as one. One single voice. Join the Cabal in their fight for bi-solar domination, or join the other side—become the eleventh planet of the Contingent and recruit their help. So, that is what we did. We joined the Imperium. The Cabal failed here, but it cost us. For twenty years our lands and our cities and our people burned in the flames of war. That united us, brought us together. A common enemy, a common cause. Cultures were redefined. Societies joined together. Religious codes were rewritten, and all the ideals of before turned away from hate and bigotry. We rebuilt, together. That was three hundred Orbin years ago.”

  “And since, we have fought,” Ona’Oona grumbled. “One planet is ravaged and the war moves to the next while the other rebuilds, but the ravaging goes on.”

  “Sometimes it comes back. Whole societies raised to fight. Whole generations bent on killing. Entire planets lost,” the king said.

  “There is no better example than Denubis.”

  Ben exchanged looks with his wife, each looking daunted. The planet Denubis was the sight of hot contention, each side vying for its abundant ore resources. They both knew what had happened there, and history would tell two tales, one from either side of the conflict. Yet Ona’Oona continued with his own version, “I was there. I saw it happen. I sat on the planes of the moon Heptis and watched. Have you ever seen a planet set loose from its axial seat? It rips itself apart. Seeing something so rich die under the machines of war will touch inside you a toll of terror you thought did not exist. It will reach inside you a deeper place than you thought possible. And the Underworlders called it a victory.” His glimmering eyes went to Tawny and he spat, “Disgusting.”

  Moving the conversation forward quickly, King Oto said, “Fortunately, Orbin is on the outskirts. We are placed abreast of the conflict. But now we know better than to turn our eyes away from it. It will come back, Benjar Dash. We fight now to keep it abroad.”

  Ona’Oona spoke as if to no one in particular, casting his gaze out on the dark night of his world, “How many generations have been lost? How many more must there be?”

  King Oto glided toward them, came closer than he had before. “We need your help. One small part in a greater plan, and we will take a mighty step toward securing our planet.”

  Ben cocked his head, looked at him interested.

  “The enemy launched a frontal maneuver against Golotha—primary world of the Contingent. Our capitol. Your homeworld. They failed.”

  The General’s chest rose, his chin lifting to the sky as he said, “They couldn’t breach the Golothan defense systems. We pounded them back, column after column. Defensive bombardment was too heavy. Our net caught them, forced them to retreat back to the oblivion from whence they came. The comm streams were glorious.”

  “But,” the king said grimly. “It was a ruse. The frontal assault on our prime world never had a chance. It was a diversion for their true plan.”

  Ben listened closely.

  The king said, “While our interplanetary resources were occupied, they moved a smaller force against the outskirts. Now, it is the moon rim of Stathos that is under contention. Stathos is our neighbor. A mere two light minutes away. She hangs in our sky to the east. If their moon rim falls to the Underworld Cabal, Stathos will fall. If Stathos falls, we will be next, Benjar Dash, and the war will have come back to our shores, our skies.”

  General Ona’Oona said, “The Cabal has already taken Menuit-B, the smallest of their three moons. They have secured it. Reconnaissance has delivered intelligence. There is an Underworld construction effort. Resources are being shuttled under heavy guard from the Underworld planets Iot and Zet.” Ona’Oona went on, “The moon is small and remote, which makes it tactically unimportant. But it also makes it easy to weaponize.”

  The king put a hand on Ben’s shoulder, locked eyes with him. “They are turning Menuit-B into a long range interplanetary pounder. A cannon platform.”

  Ben couldn’t help the edge of horror that creased his face. The king was describing a deathblow that the Cabal was preparing to deal. Those old wartime feelings scurrying underneath years of repression tried to resurface. It made him frown.

  Ona’Oona said, “From there, they will be able to launch planet killers at Stathos, and if they get under our own planetary defenses, even at us. It will be Denubis all over again,” Ona’Oona growled, his voice rimmed with the sadness of memory. “Only this time, unl
ike Denubis, Stathos has civilization. Billions will die at the hands of those Omicron slum rats.”

  Ben glanced impulsively to Tawny, reading her. She showed nothing—no emotion at all. But he knew his wife. Her values, her system of belief, her very childhood was being bombarded with insult. This was usually the point in the conversation when she started flipping over tables, taking pot shots, putting people in hospitals. He wanted to hold her, wrap her up in his arms and protect her. But he couldn’t. They’d see it. They’d know their allegiance was toward each other, not the war. So he blinked, looked away.

  King Oto sighed heavily. “It is a playing piece in the game of war. If they are successful, they will split our front in two. Our planets will fall, and with them our peoples. Stathos will be first. Orbin next. Then others.”

  Getting down to business, the king continued, “But there is a counter-plan, a mission. We must think surgically. An all out assault would only bring their armadas. As such, we have developed a plan. It is intricate, very secretive. We will deliver a payload to Menuit-B. The Cabal subcontracts with privateers regularly. We have the proper downloads, suppliers handles, access codes—everything. The chosen pilot will get through their security measures, deliver the goods to the construction effort. The cargo itself will look harmless. Packaged alloy gel for heavy construction. But with an added, little ingredient.”

  Ona’Oona said with a grin, “Our military science teams have worked tirelessly to perfect it, and it will be foolproof.” He put his chin back up and proudly declared, “Senex-1B-1. Mol bots. Military grade. Undetectable by surface scans. Designed to destroy. They will invade their systems, eat them from the inside out. Destroy their moon weapon.”

  Ben looked at the king and said, “Sabotage.”

  King Oto said, “Arrangements can be made conveniently, but the more time that passes, the more secure the moon site becomes. Time will soon be of the essence. This is a contract job, Benjar Dash. It is what you do.”

  Ben’s eyes bugged in shock. He melted into nervous laughter, put his hands up in a show of neutrality. “Guys—your Highness—I wasn’t exactly prepared to discuss further contracts.”

  The Orbin looked at each other, then back to Ben. The king said, “The General and I have discussed it. Given your talents, and given your…” he looked at Tawny, “… partnership with a Raylon female, it makes you quite possibly the perfect contractor for this job. They would not suspect your intentions. I consider your presence here to be a matter of great fortune.” He looked sternly back at Ona’Oona and said, “Despite the general’s candor.”

  Ben swallowed hard, almost painfully, and said, “The Guild wouldn’t like it, us taking outside jobs. It breaks disclosure acts and privacy clauses and sensitive information agreements and the whole deal.”

  “I am the Orbin king. The Guild is an underground, black-market haven for piracy and bounty hunting. Corruption and crime is rampant. I can bypass the Guild. This would be a two-party contract. We cannot risk a middleman. It would be strictly between you and me, the Orbin king.”

  Ben flicked his lip, concentrating, and moved to the great window. He looked out, pondering the situation at every angle, diving into the character of the room, the temperament of all involved.

  What to do?

  What to do?

  General Ona’Oona blurted, “Come on with it! The time to decide all things is upon us. You are Contingent. With whom does your loyalty lie—with us, or a hoard of power mongering murderers bereft of value, blinded by evil, determined to stamp out all that is good in our solar system?” And on reflex and impulse, he motioned toward Tawny with the flick of a wrist.

  Her face went tight, anger seethed. She flushed an angry red, something the blue-skinned Orbin could not read. Her fury simmered to the top like an Omicron volcano, ready to explode. She opened her mouth to rebut and Ben blurted, “We’ll do it!” Her mouth closed. She looked to her husband with bolts of fire and swords and explosive plasma balls seething from her eyes. He nodded with great certainty, and said to King Oto, “Get the contract.”

  “Excellent!” Ona’Oona said.

  “Wonderful,” the king agreed.

  Ben looked at the general. “We’ll need approach vectors. Authorization codes. Equipment and info inspection data. Every piece of information on that station that you can feed into my onboard intelligence processors. That includes the Underworld contract protocols for freelance operations, access codes, everything. We will not go into this job blind, understood?”

  Ona’Oona’s face broke into a severe, convicted grin, and he said, “I will have my data team begin downloads right away.”

  Ben looked at the king. “We’ll return to our vessel and begin preparations, immediately. When I return in one hour we discuss payout.”

  The king nodded.

  “And your Highness,” Ben said, “This had better make us rich.”

  “You will be very pleased, I assure you.”

  “I don’t want to be pleased. I want to be rich.”

  The king nodded with understanding. Rich it was.

  Ben looked at his wife with hard, unmoving eyes, shocked at her cutthroat stare, and said, “Let’s go.”

  The royal escort took Tawny and Ben back to the shuttle tarmac where they loaded up and boosted skyward like a flash. Within minutes they bounced through the atmosphere and watched Orbiter 1 approach, the whole time Tawny fighting to contain herself. She reeled with the searing, hot resignation of fury, and yet there was also the gut-dropping hurt of betrayal. Her husband had turned against her. Everything they stood for, the years of trust and mutual bonding they’d built up, he’d just slapped in the face. For this very day was why they’d developed their Space Rules; to preserve each other’s ideals, to bond them closer together through their differences.

  And now this.

  And now this?

  She looked at him with hate in her eyes. Oh—you just wait until I get you alone. Wait until we’re back on board our ship. You betray me like this and expect no consequence? I’m a soldier, a warrior of the Cabal. And you have fanned an old, cold flame back into life. You just wait, mister.

  The pod connected to a multi-port airlock. There was a thump and the door opened. They stepped into a small white compartment. The royal guard nodded to them wordlessly and hit the button. The hatch swung shut and went thump. They were alone.

  Tawny spun to him letting loose an open-handed slap—pow—right across the cheek. It surprised her as much as it did him. He looked at her, rubbing his face with the back of his hand. The opposite door opened into the passage umbilicus. He said, “Oh, don’t be so dramatic,” and stepped out, headed toward REX’s air lock, double-timing it.

  “Benjar,” she snarled pacing quickly behind. “What the hells are you doing? This is a clear breach in our agreement—transporting weapons grade technology, taking combative measures, even espionage. You’re stepping over half our list!”

  On the move, he waggled a finger at her, half-angry for the smakaroo to the face. “I knew you knew our list better than you were leading on.”

  “And what about you accepting a contract to haul military weapons!”

  Still pacing rapidly, he said, “Oh for the love of— we ain’t hauling nothing but narse, baby. We’re getting the hells out of here.”

  “Wait—what do you mean?”

  Still walking fast. “Look, I had to agree to the contract back there. If we’d turned the job down we never would have made it past the palace gates, not with this information. Were you listening to them? Did you hear them talk? Especially that general. Do you think they would have just let us go? Oh no—we’d be sitting in some cushy palace cell right now waiting to get our happy little mindwipes. No thank you, baby.”

  “You lied to the king?” she asked.

  “You’re damn right I did,” he said thundering into the ship. Her mouth dropped. She was wrong. He’d been bluffing. Of course! Benji would never betray her like that. How could she even
think that? She felt suddenly and immediately guilty. Indescribably guilty. And kind of horny, too. My god, she’d slapped him. She’d never even conceived of such a thing, slapping her husband. And all he was trying to do was protect her. Now she was going to have to make it up to him. Yeah, she would have to get seriously funky on him.

  Seriously.

  Funky.

  But not yet. Right now, they were getting the hells out of orbit, preparing to haul some serious narse.

  “REX, what do you got, baby?” Ben called moving through the crew’s hold.

  “Do I smell more trouble?”

  “Lots and lots, buddy. Give us good news.” Sprinting down the passageway.

  “Well, there’s no breaking their mag tether. But they’re mag locked to our cargo haulers.”

  “We can detach them.” Swinging down into his pilot’s seat.

  “Well, yeah, but… we’ll lose them. We kind of need them.”

  “I don’t care. We’ll get more. Plot a course to…” he looked at Tawny, thinking, and said, “to Omicron Prime.” He started flipping switches, firing up systems.

  “That’s the heart of the Cabal,” REX said.

  “They’ll never follow us.” Now flipping switches overhead. “No time to prime up. It’s going to be a cold burn at top speed, buddy. Can you handle it?”

  “I’ll try to stay in one piece.”

  He looked at Tawny. “Strap in.”

  REX said, “Oh. We’re leaving now?”

  “Yes. On my mark.” Grabbing the cargo release lever above.

  “Oh boy. This is going to give me a headache, isn’t it?”

  “And… detaching cargo units!” He slammed the lever forward.

  Outside the ship, the mag-spires cut power to their electromagnetic generators and separated. The cargo units inside their clutches began tumbling free of their hold. The tether holding REX at bay slackened, no longer controlling the ship.

  “I hope you got that plot laid out, REX,” Ben called.

  “Uh. Umm.”

  “Uh umm? What do you mean uh umm?”

  “Yes. Okay. Punch it!”