The Fringe Series Omnibus

by Rachel Aukes

  Seda cocked his head. “What were the sticking points, then? Let’s discuss those.”

  Etzel sighed. “The very basis of the document. It states that each colony planet would no longer be a part of the Collective.”

  “Yes, however, we’d ensure fair trade agreements are developed,” Seda said.

  “Trade agreements mean little if you control the space docks,” Etzel countered.

  “If I may,” Anders interjected. “In the cease-fire, we established that the fringe stations would be required to maintain open trade with Myrad and Alluvian traders alike, with guaranteed annual minimum quantities and negotiated fair rates for each planet, along with an option to reevaluate trade agreements after an established duration.”

  “That, however, still keeps the fringe stations under the control of the colony,” Etzel said.

  “Not if we split ownership,” Hatha said.

  Seda jerked to face her.

  She continued. “What if a wing of the Sol Base station and a concourse of the docks remains under Collective ownership? And the colony owns the remaining portions.”

  “The Collective owns half of the station and docks, along with access—with immunity—on all major roads and airspaces. After all, owning a dock does us little good if our ships or goods are seized as soon as we leave.”

  “Half is impractical and just plain greedy,” Hatha said. “The Collective is essentially Alluvia and Myr. That’s two worlds compared with the four worlds and asteroid belt I need to continue to serve. One concourse to the Collective, and that leaves two concourses for me to manage.”

  “You’re assuming every colony planet will leave the Collective,” Etzel said. “We haven’t discussed them yet.”

  “Then we’ll readjust the ownership based on who remains in the Collective,” she said.

  “No,” Seda said slowly and firmly.

  Everyone turned to him.

  “One concourse and one wing at Sol Base. The other colony worlds will not be bartering pieces today.”

  Hatha gave him a nod in agreement before she turned back to Etzel. “No adjustments. And I support the access you request on the ground and in the air as long as all travelers—regardless of which banner they fly—obey interplanetary laws.”

  Seda set his hands on the table. “Senator Etzel, what do you have to say to what Hatha’s offering?”

  “We’ll need to work out the details this week, but it sounds possible,” Etzel said. “However, we need the ability to build future space docks in new locations on the colony worlds.”

  Seda spoke. “That’s for you and the colony’s leaders to work out when the time comes. That’s not on the table today.”

  Etzel frowned but accepted the statement with a nod.

  “I have a proposal.” Seda motioned to Hatha’s assistant, who’d been jotting notes on the original cease-fire as they spoke. Small screens extended upward from the table. “Here’s the revised treaty. It states all the colony worlds are independent of the Collective, with new wording to cover shared ownership of space docks associated with each fringe station. Everything else is left as previously written, including the bit on guaranteed trade quantities and rates.”

  “I haven’t even had a chance to read this yet,” Etzel said.

  Seda tried not to let his impatience show. “You probably have the cease-fire agreement memorized, and the revisions are clearly marked. What’s left on the table that you think is missing?”

  “For one, there’s nothing in here regarding taxes paid to the Collective. We depend on that money.”

  Seda chuckled. “There will be no taxes paid to the Collective by worlds no longer a part of the Collective. That’s the whole concept of independence. Now, you can make up some of that money through tariffs and sales taxes and other ways, which I’m sure you’ll have no problem inventing.”

  Etzel scowled. “Alluvia and Myr depend on those taxes. What you’re proposing will eliminate citizens’ guaranteed income.”

  “Yes, they’ll have to work for a living, just like colonists have always done.” Seda then gave him a hard look. “We can discuss minor details, but I want to make sure you understand, Senator. All colonies must be independent. That is non-negotiable. We can talk about each one separately if you want, but the outcome will be the same: they will all be free. If, at some point, they decide to rejoin the Collective, that’s between them and you. If you can’t accept that, then we do not need to spend further time negotiating. That means the war goes on, and we’ll both lose the Sol Base docks.”

  Etzel’s lips thinned. The pair faced off for several minutes without speaking.

  Finally, Etzel broke. “We will accept the peace treaty. However, we want everything laid out specifically: which concourses, which parts of the stations, parcels of land that those items sit upon, and so on.”

  “We can work out those details this week, as I also have a few things to add, such as ensuring space sectors remain neutral,” Seda said.

  Etzel nodded. “I also have a few terms of peace you must address.”

  “I expected as much,” Seda said. “What are these terms you speak of?”

  “Senator Heid must be returned, unharmed.”

  “He will be, after his trial,” Seda said.

  Etzel’s gaze narrowed. “I need your assurance that you will not carry out his punishment, whatever your judge or jury deem for him. If he is found guilty of war crimes by an Alluvian court, you must trust that Parliament will see he faces a punishment fitting the standards of his home world.

  Which meant Heid would never see the inside of a prison cell, let alone a firing squad, once he returned home. However, Seda still had a few strings on Alluvia left that he could pull. He’d ensure Heid would not get away with his crimes for long. “As soon as Gabriel Heid’s trial is held and broadcast, I will see that he is safely returned to Alluvia.”

  Etzel motioned to Anders, who then spoke. “Now, we must speak of any CUF property you have in your possession, as well as all prisoners of war you’re holding.”

  “The Littorio and the Houston will be returned to you after you sign the treaty and today’s outcomes are shared across the Collective by Citizen James.”

  Anders smiled. “I’m looking forward to getting my ship back. And the prisoners?”

  “As for prisoners of war, all, including Commandant Corll and Captain Singh, will be returned, unharmed, at a time and location when and where you return all colonists you’ve been holding as prisoners and all conscripts, who are to be immediately freed from service.”

  Etzel gave a small jolt when Seda mentioned the conscripts, clearly a factor Etzel had not yet taken into consideration.

  Anders nodded. “We can work out a neutral location in which to make the exchange.”

  After another hour of making compromises, the attendees took a break. Etzel and his entourage left the meeting room. Willas went to work recording his broadcast.

  Hatha stood. “I need a drink.”

  Seda leaned back in his chair and glanced at Reyne. “You stayed awfully quiet.”

  Reyne shrugged. “I would’ve spoken up if I thought we were getting screwed, but honestly, they capitulated on your demands a lot more than I ever expected them to.”

  Seda gave a dark smile. “That’s because they came here to surrender, and we let them do it gracefully.”

  Twenty

  Ghost Town Celebrations

  Rebus Station, Terra

  Critch had just lined up the shot when someone tapped his shoulder, throwing off his aim. He snarled. “Do that again, and you lose a kneecap.”

  “The war’s over!” Mick said. “It’s on all the channels. Parliament signed a treaty. The colonies are free!”

  Critch frowned. “No shit?”

  Mick held out his wrist comm. “See for yourself.”

  He watched the video play and read the closed captioning on the small screen. It was that DZ-Five News reporter, and he was standing next to some senators
, and sure as shit, both Seda and Reyne were there. It looked like a political circus, but it also looked like the real thing.

  “We’re free! The droms are supposed to clear out of every colony immediately.”

  He turned back to the droms on the street below. The squad was moving toward their vehicle, firing haphazardly. A colonist was caught by a shot and fell. Critch lined up his shot once more and fired. The drom went down.

  “Why’d you do that? The war’s over,” Mick said.

  “He didn’t get the message,” Critch replied. He aimed at the squad again, but they were now safe in their vehicle.

  He pushed himself into a seated position, set down his rifle, and looked at his wrist comm. He tapped out a note and broadcast it to everyone on his contact list who was currently on Terra. He wrote:

  War is over. We won. Watch your backs until CUF leaves.

  There. He didn’t want to lose any torrents to thinking that just because a war was officially over, the bloodshed was over. The two rarely went hand in hand.

  He pushed to his feet and turned to the torrent with him. “Let’s head to the docks and make sure they leave with their tails between their legs.”

  Mick grinned. “You got it.”

  The pair made their way to the space docks, careful to avoid CUF vehicles and squads even though the gunfire had stopped. Colonists stood on the streets, cheering their newfound independence. Critch thought they were foolish to be outside so soon when blasters were still warm from firing. But he understood why they were there. This was a day they’d only dreamed of living to see. Hell, Critch even felt a bit choked up.

  By the time they reached the docks, half of the CUF transports were already gone and the rest were being loaded. Terran conscripts were being left on the ramps with nothing but the clothes on their backs. But they didn’t seem to mind. They ran onto the crowded walkways and cheered, along with thousands of intrepid colonists there to see the dromadiers leave their colony.

  As soon as the transports were gone and the warship left Terra’s airspace, Critch sent out teams to check tunnels and buildings for any droms who may have been left behind. Fortunately, the CUF had done a good job of taking their citizens home.

  When daytime cheers morphed into nighttime celebrations, Critch grabbed a truck and made his way to the apartment building on the other side of town. He parked across the street and climbed the stairs. Doors were open, and people were smiling as they toasted one another with shots of Terran whiskey—likely home brewed. He stopped at a door and pulled out a new wrist comm. He knocked. When there was no answer, he stepped inside to find it empty. Not that he was surprised. The kid would be out celebrating independence day with his friends. He set the wrist comm on the counter. He left no note—Kassel would know whom it was from.

  Critch returned to his truck and decided to make one final stop at the checkpoint he’d passed through earlier with Kassel to confirm the two conscripts had made it out okay. He slowed as he approached. A bombed-out CUF vehicle still smoked at the checkpoint, and he saw two slumped shapes on the ground.

  He swallowed, stopped the truck, and climbed out with heavy steps. He recognized the conscripts through their burned hair and blackened faces. Their boots and gear were missing, likely scavenged within minutes of their deaths. The smoke meant they couldn’t have been dead for more than several hours. They’d likely been killed after the war ended. What a waste.

  He came down on a knee and placed a hand on each shoulder. “May you find peace in the Eversea.”

  He pushed to his feet with a sigh. He’d about turned to go when he saw another shape mostly hidden by the vehicle. He approached. Dread clenched his jaw shut. Like the women, Kassel had been killed by the explosion. His chest and face were bloody from shrapnel. And, like the women, Kassel’s shoes were missing and the contents of his backpack were strewn on the stone road. It looked like anything valuable was gone, with only wrappers and trinkets left behind.

  Critch grimaced as he picked up the small toy spaceship from the ground. Of course Kassel had kept the ship. He reminded Critch of himself at that age. Overconfident and determined to be the best pilot in the system. For the first time in years, he felt a tear on his cheek. He gently placed the ship in a pocket on his bag. He slung the bag over his shoulder and then bent down and scooped up the teenager’s body in his arms.

  He carried Kassel to the truck and drove out of the colony, where he gave the kid a proper Terran cremation.

  Several hours later, fatigued and dirty, Critch returned to Rebus Station and tracked down Miko at the Last Drop Café. Someone held out a drink, and Critch ignored it.

  He walked straight toward Miko’s table, where the captain sat with his crew, enjoying a much-needed break.

  Miko’s grin fell as soon as he saw Critch’s expression.

  “We need to head out,” Critch said.

  Miko downed the rest of his drink in a single gulp. “Where to?”

  “Nova Colony. I have some unfinished business.”

  Devil Town, Spate

  “We’re all set,” Birk said. “Operation Devil’s Playground launches in an hour.”

  Throttle grinned. “It’s about time. I can’t wait to see the look on their faces when we—”

  “Throttle! Birk!” Garrett came running into the brothel room where they’d been holed up for nearly a week.

  Throttle frowned. She’d never seen Garrett run before, at least not without being shot at. She reached for her blaster. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing! It’s over! The war is over! The droms are pulling out as we speak.”

  She stiffened. “What do you mean it’s over?”

  Garrett rushed over to the wall screen and turned on the news channel. A news reporter was talking about the colonies being independent. In the background, she saw Reyne standing with Seda and a bunch of uppity-looking folks.

  “He pulled it off,” she said on an exhalation. Her smile morphed into a frown. “Aw, hell.”

  “What’s wrong?” Birk asked.

  She turned to him. “That means we can’t carry out Operation Devil’s Playground.”

  He laughed.

  “It was going to be legendary,” she said.

  He kissed her. “Don’t worry. I’m sure we’ll get to fight droms again.”

  She scowled. “I kind of hope so.”

  Twenty-One

  Retribution

  Nova Colony within the Space Coast asteroid belt

  Critch entered Nova Colony’s tunnels. He’d grown up in the colony with his sister and best friend, led it as a pirate for nearly two decades, and could still find his way through the maze-like tunnel system blindfolded. Kora had been killed when the CUF invaded Nova Colony nearly twenty-five years ago. Chutt had at least managed to get off that rock with Critch, only to be killed on Terra. As he walked, faces of those who’d died went through his mind. There’d been so many. Yet he still lived, a soldier of retribution.

  He wanted to quit… quit the fighting, quit the killing. But he couldn’t; not as long as those lived who sought to suffocate others beneath shrouds of righteousness. He trudged on.

  When he arrived at the prison cells, he continued until he reached the maximum security cell at the end of the line.

  The guard sitting near the door rushed to his feet as soon as he saw who approached. “Are you here to see the prisoner?”

  Critch nodded. “Give me ten minutes alone with him.”

  “I’m not supposed to—” Critch’s hard look cut him off. “Sure, no problem.”

  “Why don’t you take a break?” Critch offered. “Ten minutes.”

  The guard nodded and then strode away.

  Critch looked through the tiny window in the door to see Heid sitting on the bed, his legs crossed in a meditative pose. The older man looked at peace.

  Critch made no attempts to be quiet as he opened the door and stepped inside. He set down the small box he’d been carrying and faced the prisoner.


  Heid opened his eyes. “You have questions you wish to ask me before my trial tomorrow?”

  “Hm.”

  Heid watched him for a lengthy moment. “Ah, you’re not here to ask questions then.”

  “Remember what I told you the day you killed Demes?”

  Heid eyed the scabbard at Critch’s hip before returning his direct gaze. “I believe you warned me that you would take my head.”

  Critch pulled out the sword.

  Heid, slowly and methodically, pushed to his feet. He opened his mouth to speak—

  Critch swung the sword and took Heid’s head off with a single, smooth strike. The head bounced on the mattress as the rest of the body toppled to the floor. Critch set the head upright on the center of the bed before turning back to the body. With another swing, he cut off Heid’s right hand. He placed the hand in the box and wiped his sword on the blanket before sheathing it. Then he strode from the cell, leaving the door wide open.

  The guard was returning as Critch left, and Critch tilted his head toward him when they met in the hallway. Each continued on their way. Critch wasn’t worried about getting arrested. Nearly everyone who worked at Nova Colony was still on his payroll.

  He headed back up to the main hallway. There, he stopped by the post office. He set down the box on the counter and wrote a name, Senator Liu, on a slip of paper. He pushed it across the table, leaving a smeared trail of blood. The agent looked at it and then at him with fear.

  “Package and ship that out with the next runner,” he said.

  She nodded and lifted the box as though she was afraid a monster would jump out of it and eat her.

  He left and walked to the dock, for the first time bypassing the Uneven Bar. He donned a flight suit and crossed through the airlocks to enter the depressurized space docks. There, in zero-g, he pulled himself easily toward where the Lady Lilith waited, ready for takeoff. By the time he climbed on board and reached the bridge, the engines were powered up.