by Richard Fox
The conversation gradually steered toward the events on Diasore, and the Ultari invasion.
West set his glass down and wiped his mouth with a napkin. “You know, one thing I noticed about the Ultari on Diasore is that the Netherguard models were different from those we fought on Terra Nova and Negev. They were significantly more advanced and seemed more adept at battle tactics and movements.”
“I noticed the same thing,” Carson said, “which means the Triumvirate aren’t simply relying on overwhelming numbers—they’re focusing on enhanced capabilities.”
Movement near the door caught Carson’s attention; one of the guards was leaning in, whispering to another. She couldn’t decide whether their shared expressions were confusion, shock, or both. At the opposite end of the room, another guard put a hand to his ear then looked around until he locked eyes with the other two.
Carson nudged West. “Something’s going on.”
A shadow played across several of the windows, and a thrumming sound reverberated through the space as something flew overhead.
“Whoa,” Jerry said, steadying his glass.
Birch moved to a window and pulled back the sheer blue curtain. “Now that’s impressive.”
“What?” Carson asked, joining him at the window.
Outside, a sleek aircraft, easily three times the size of the Valiant, was slowly rotating thirty meters above the compound’s expansive parade field. On the underside of the ship were several lines of symbols and letters that Carson couldn’t read. The hull was dotted with gun batteries, constantly sweeping the ground and surrounding airspace for threats.
A flight of six fighter aircraft zipped past, their powerful drives rumbling the windows as they passed in a tight formation. A shuttle descended from an opening in the bottom of the craft and glided quickly out of view.
“Jena’s father maybe?” Birch asked.
Carson shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine.”
West and the rest of the team joined them at the window.
“Whoever it is, they’ve got a pretty high opinion of themselves,” Popov said.
“I thought Jena said they couldn’t fly out here because of those cal-things,” Jerry said, craning his head around Birch to see.
Carson shook her head as the fighter escort roared past again. “Well, they definitely don’t seem worried about them. They seem to have brought more than enough firepower to deal with them.”
Nunez shuddered. “I’d hate to go up against one of those things in the air—shit, on the ground even. Fighting giant dragon-pterodactyls wasn’t on the job application.”
Carson felt a hand on her shoulder and turned to see Jor trying to get a view of what they were all looking at. She stepped back and the Zeis’s eyes widened at the sight of the new arrival.
“Balai-cursed woman,” Jor said, backing away from the window. “It’s barely been a day.”
“Something wrong?” Carson asked.
Jor shook his head, covering his face with his hands. “I don’t understand why she just won’t let it go.”
“Who?”
Jor straightened, letting his hands fall back to his sides. “It’s my—”
The door to the dining room slammed open, the noise echoing around the quiet chamber. The two guards on the door spun, expecting a fight, but immediately snapped to attention as eight Zeis males wearing orange and black uniforms entered the room without giving the guards so much as a nod. They were all powerfully built and held rifles across their chests, barrels pointing to the floor.
Following the guardsmen was a tall Zeis female, dressed in elaborate flowing golden robes. Her face was covered by a gold-trimmed veil, inlayed with glittering jewels. A golden necklace, heavy with jewels, hung from her neck and over her breasts, which the dress barely concealed.
“Jor!” the woman screamed as her guardsmen parted.
Jor sighed, his shoulders slumping. “It’s my wife.”
****
The veiled Zeis woman, Jor’s wife, stormed across the dining hall, pointing a thin bronze finger. “You! You dare show your face here! You have disgraced me for the last time, Jor!”
“Kalene,” Jor said, stepping around Carson, “I—”
“You dare address me causally!” The princess’s voice cracked as she screamed, her blue and gold dress streaming out behind her as she closed on Jor.
Jor backpedaled several steps. “Crown Dal, I—”
“Disgrace! You taint the very ground you walk upon!”
“Excuse me,” Carson said, stepping forward, beside Jor. “I…”
Kalene slowly turned her eyes on Carson, fury burning behind her goat-like eyes. Muscles twitched under her light bronze skin as veins pulsed in her neck. She considered Carson for a long moment, her eyes scanning up and down her frame, taking in her Pathfinder uniform, gear, and finally, her rifle. “And this? Another one of your husini?”
“Please, you must understand—”
“What did she just call me?” Carson put her hands on her hips.
“I must understand nothing,” Kalene said, stopping a few steps away from Jor, her bronze skin flushing with color, her entire body rigid and tense, seemingly on the verge of lashing out to attack. “You have disgraced me, and you spit in the face of Balai and his Commandments!”
“The Commandments say nothing of conscription, wife,” Jor said, seeming to gain a bit of courage. “Balai preached free will as well as procreation.”
“Do not speak of Balai’s will to me, husband. Only the Conclave may interpret His will. They have made their decision, and you will return to the palace with me and you will never see that lowly whore ever again. That is the command of the Conclave.”
“The Conclave is wrong,” Jor said. “They have twisted Balai’s words to fit their own—”
“Blasphemy!” Kalene shouted, stepping forward as she slipped her hand into the folds of her dress.
When her hand reappeared an instant later, it wasn’t empty. Carson moved on instinct, catching the Zeis woman’s wrist and twisting it back. As Carson wrenched back, Kalene’s bronze fingers flexed open, releasing the small pistol they held. It clattered to the polished marble and slid across the floor.
Kalene screamed then stepped back, twisting her arm free even as her guards moved to protect their charge. Rifles came up, accompanied by angry shouts—commands that Carson didn’t understand, though she could guess.
Her Pathfinders appeared, their weapons up and ready as more shouting echoed through the expansive chamber around them. Carson grabbed Jor by the shoulder as he tried to step past the line, pulling him behind Birch and Moretti.
“Now is not the time,” Carson hissed.
“Stand down!” West shouted.
“Drop your weapons!”
“No!” Jor pleaded. “Stop!”
“Traitor!” Kalene shouted over the mayhem of commands. “You’ve brought invaders to our home? You will burn for this!”
“Stop,” Carson said. “Everyone, just calm down! Take it easy.”
The chorus of commands died away, though the weapons remained leveled, fingers hovering over triggers. Professional soldiers on both sides glared at each other, neither flinching.
“You have no voice here,” Kalene said, pointing.
Carson steadied her breathing. “Just bring it down a notch. This doesn’t have to end this way.”
“You will give no commands here, alien. If you stand with him,” she pointed at Jor, “then you are as culpable as he, and you will stand trial with him before the Conclave.”
“First off,” Carson said, lowering her gauss carbine, more irritated now than anything. “I don’t even know what this Conclave is, and second, I won’t be standing trial with anyone for a crime I didn’t commit. My name is Chief Kit Carson, with the—”
“I don’t care who you are, husini!” Kalene said, interrupting her. “And I have no desire to listen to any more lies. The Conclave will listen and decide. You will drop your
weapons and surrender to the Crown.”
Carson shook her head. “Can’t do that.”
“Then you will die.”
Another door slammed open at the back of the chamber. “Princess Kalene!”
Zeis and human alike turned as Jena stormed through the door, Benit and a small security team following in her wake.
“What is the meaning of this?” Jena demanded.
“I am reclaiming my rightful property,” Kalene said, though her tone lacked some of the conviction it’d held previously.
“You have violated the Preserve’s mandates and you come into my house like this? Crown or no, you have no right.”
“You think your laws mean anything to me? I can do what I like! I am the Crown Dal!”
Jena pushed her way through the Pathfinder line, stepping between the two groups to stare the Zeis woman down. “Has the line of succession fallen so far since I’ve been gone? Has the King fallen, and his wife and sons and daughters, to the fifth?”
Kalene hesitated for a moment, seeming to consider Jena’s words.
The Cleric continued. “The last I knew, His Majesty, Talben, still sat on the throne. Only he is immune to the Order’s reach, so I will not mind my words. You, however, may want to reconsider yours. Do you think that His Majesty will be pleased that you have violated the Edict of Angea and entered my father’s house without cause?”
“My cause is there!” Kalene jabbed a finger at Jor.
At the end of the Pathfinder line, Jerry flinched, letting out a clipped gasp. Two of the Zeis guard reacted immediately, turning their rifles on the oldest Hale boy.
“No!” Carson yelled.
West put a hand on Jerry’s rifle, gently pushing it toward the floor and stepping between him and the Zeis. “Easy, boys. We don’t want anyone firing off any rounds they don’t mean to. Can’t bring those things back.”
“Lower your weapons,” Kalene said after several long moments.
Carson gave a nod to West, and the rest of the Pathfinders followed suit.
“Your brother has been filling your head with lies, Kalene,” Jena said. “Your husband has violated the Matrimony Pact; however, that does not preclude you from following the rest of Balai’s commands.”
“And what of your violations?” Kalene asked, nodding to the humans. “You’ve brought a group of Externals to our world, without first consulting the Conclave. Clerics aren’t excluded from the Commandments either.”
“Do not quote the Commandments to me, Princess. I know them better than you ever will,” said Jena. “And do not trouble yourself with my actions. I will answer to the Conclave in my own time.”
Kalene glared at Jena. “I know you will.”
“You must leave,” Jena told her. “Your presence could disrupt the migration and I will not allow that to happen. You will receive a flight plan from my people and I will caution you to follow it precisely.”
“I will take him with me,” Kalene said, pointing at Jor.
Jena turned to Jor, her expression almost regretful.
“It is my right,” Kalene said.
After a moment, Jena nodded, and Jor reluctantly stepped forward. He moved past Jena without saying a word, keeping his eyes locked on the floor.
Carson leaned forward to whisper in Jena’s ear. “You aren’t just going to let them take him?”
“I have no choice,” Jena replied. “By Conclave commands, he must answer for his crime. My mission was to bring him before the Conclave and allow him to speak on his actions. Now that we are on Yalara, I can’t refuse a wife’s right.”
A wife’s right, Carson repeated in her mind, wondering what exactly the concept entailed.
“Now,” Jena said, “your business is done here.”
“We will leave,” Kalene said, smiling. She eyed Carson. “The King will be told of this. We are not done, mark my words. There will be a reckoning.”
“Perhaps,” Jena said. “But that won’t be today.”
****
From a terrace overlooking one of the compound’s gardens, the Pathfinders watched the princess’s ship lift into the air, the large turbine engines whining and pummeling the trees and brush beneath with hot exhaust, creating a cloud of leaves, grass, and dust. The flight of escorts roared by, splitting into two groups, forming up on either side of the larger ship as it started out over the jungle.
“Jor was a fugitive,” Jena said as the roar of the engines faded in the distance.
Carson frowned. “He didn’t seem like a criminal to me.”
“Not a criminal,” Jena said. “A deserter.”
Nunez put his back to the waist-high marble railing. “What? Like he was in the military or something?”
“If he’d deserted from the military, I wouldn’t have been chasing him. No, he was a deserter from his marriage.”
Nunez coughed. “He left his wife and they sent a bounty hunter after him?”
“Clerics are not bounty hunters,” Jena corrected. “We are enforcers of the Conclave’s will. And yes, but it is not that simple. Had Jor not been married to the princess, the Conclave might not have cared so deeply about his safe return. As it happens, the Royal Family does not like to be made a fool—not to mention the princess’s scorn at being left for a lesser woman.”
“What do you mean, ‘lesser’?” Carson asked.
“Zeis society is based around family,” Jena explained. “All families, however, are not created equal. Even my own, which is quite established, is below many others and well below the Crown.”
“Sounds like quite a popularity contest,” Carson said. “So Jor left the princess for another woman that was below her status and that pissed her off? Must have been someone special to incur that type of wrath.”
Jena took a long breath. “It was my sister.”
“Wait a minute,” Nunez said. “You chased down your own sister’s lover to bring him back to that?” He laughed. “Man, talk about—”
“Where is your sister, Jena?” Carson asked, cutting him off.
Jena held Caron’s gaze for several moments before answering. “My hope is that she is dead.”
Carson opened her mouth to respond, but no words came.
Jena continued, “The lifespan of a Pindiki sex slave is not long. I can only hope she did not endure for too long.”
“I’m…I’m sorry,” Carson said.
Jena’s face hardened. “She was a Cleric. One of the best. She would not have gone quietly or easily. I’m sure she killed many before they took her, which is my only solace.”
“And Jor?”
“When news of what had happened reached the Conclave, Jor was heartbroken. Refused to believe that she was gone.”
“Why didn’t you go after her?”
“Because doing so would have risked war, something the Conclave cannot allow. Once the slavers reached Pindiki space, it was next to impossible to track them. Even if I’d been allowed to search, I wouldn’t have found her.”
“But you could bring back Jor?”
“Up until recent events, Regulos space has been open to all. I was sent after Jor almost immediately and was able to track him to Diasore. You know the rest.”
“Hell with that,” Nunez said. “I’d’ve gone to war and killed every last one of the bastards.”
“Damn straight,” Jerry said, nodding.
“My father wanted to go to war to bring her back. Unfortunately, he didn’t have the clout to push the Conclave to action.”
“And I bet the princess has some,” West said.
“Yes. She still does—though even if the princess had not lobbied against him, I doubt his calls for action would’ve been heeded. The Conclave would’ve never voted to go to war with the Pindiki, not with our world’s bureaucracy the way it is. It’s a wonder they accomplish anything at all. They’re barely capable of handling the responsibilities they’ve been charged with.”
“And what’s that?” Carson asked.
“Protecting
the Hearth—our home. The majority believe that to mean cutting ties with all foreign powers and returning to a fully self-sustaining world, devoid of all outside influence.”
“Isolationists,” Carson said.
Jena nodded. “Indeed.”
Carson shot West a knowing look. “So bringing us here might not have been the best move on your part.”
“It was the only move, as my father will surely agree, and despite what the Royals may think, they do not possess authoritarian power over the rest of us. There are many powerful families—my own included—that do not agree with the Isolationists, and we are actively campaigning against them.”
“I’m going to be one hundred percent honest with you, Jena,” Carson said. “My team and I are out here to make allies that can help us fight the Ultari. I don’t want to put you in an even worse position than you already are, but if we’re not going to get any help here, we’re going to have to go someplace we can. We’ve already struck out once with the Regulos and I have a feeling we’re quickly running out of time.”
Jena considered Carson for a long moment. “I will take you to the Conclave.”
“You think they will listen to me?”
“The Triumvirate represent a very real threat, not only to the Regulos and your people, but to the rest of the galaxy as a whole. If we do not stop them, there is no telling where they will stop. The Triumvirate threat exceeds that even of the Pindiki because they won’t simply enslave our people—they’ll wipe them out and not spare them a second thought. That threat alone should be enough to push the Conclave into action.”
****
“This thing really does go on forever, doesn’t it?” Nunez asked, his eyes locked on the landscape outside their capsule. Rocky mountain peaks rose out of an endless green jungle that stretched to the horizon. Every now and then, the canopy of trees was broken by sheer cliffs, hills and rivers that snaked on for kilometers.
“The transit network is extensive,” Jena said. “I believe the last estimate was half a million kilometers so far, with another quarter million in construction.”